


The Way Home

by RZZMG



Series: Hermione x Draco stories [35]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Terminator (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Alternate Universe - War, Bittersweet Ending, Character Death, Dark Archway, Department of Mysteries, Elder Wand, Evil Umbridge, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Goodbye Sex, Goodbyes, Minor Character Death, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-12 16:32:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7941451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RZZMG/pseuds/RZZMG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I've lived through fire<br/>and tasted murder,<br/>and I am infected by both.<br/>I will end her.<br/>I will save him.<br/>and I will free my soul."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of my Dramione Remix 2016 Fest submissions. The couple I chose to remix for this fic was Sarah Connor and Kyle Reese from "The Terminator" series.
> 
> Backstory for you: In the future, machines have driven humanity to the brink of extinction. The human resistance, led by a guerrilla fighter named John Connor, deals the machines a crushing blow and defeats them in a decisive battle that turns the tide of the war. Knowing they have lost, the machines make one last desperate gamble: they build a time machine and send a Terminator robot back into the past, to a time before John Connor is born. Their plan is to kill John's mother, Sarah Connor, before he can be conceived. If they succeed, the resistance will fail in the future and the machines will win. The resistance finds the time portal just minutes after the Terminator has gone back in time, so John Connor sends through the time portal one of his best soldiers, Kyle Reese. Kyle's mission is to go back in time and protect Sarah Connor from the Terminator. Unwittingly, Kyle and Sarah fall in love. In the end, Kyle gives his life to stop the Terminator and to protect the woman he loves...the woman carrying his unborn son...a son who would one day grow up and lead the human resistance against the machines. A boy Sarah names John Connor.
> 
> This story starts in an Alternate Universe future, then takes a trip into the middle of Voldemort's war during Draco's 7th year ("Deathly Hallows"). Everything after that is A/U.
> 
> I've borrowed many quotes and references from the various "Terminator" movies and its offshoot television series for this fic. All kudos go to those writers (James Cameron, Gale Anne Hurd, William Wisher Jr., John Brancato, Michael Ferris, Jonathan Nolan, Paul Haggis, Josh Friedman).
> 
> Many thanks to "Jillified" for her invaluable brainstorming help, giving me a beta on this story, and telling me when I was being too verbose for my own good. *smooches*
> 
> Thank you once more to our faboo Mods, "unseenlibrarian" and "withdrawnred" for hosting this fun fest (and forgiving me my zany scheduling).

**_“We’re here to stop the end of the world.”_ **

**_– Sarah Connor, “Terminator: Genisys”_ **

 

 

She believed in the fight.

There was always good in a good struggle.

And that’s why Divination was a load of horseshite, as far as Hermione Granger was concerned, because the ‘mystic arts’ always told one not to bother trying, that the outcome was already set and that nothing one did—no amount of effort made, or blood shed, or tears cried, or skills proved—could alter the fact that what was meant to be always, eventually happened.

As she read the inscription above the doorway she’d just passed through, she felt vindicated in that long-held belief at last:

 

_“The future's not set. There is no fate but what we make for ourselves.”_

 

Whoever had carved that nugget of wisdom definitely knew what they were talking about, she decided, turning away to focus on today’s big goal: actually proving that statement true.

The Death Chamber inside the Department of Mysteries hadn’t changed a bit since her fifth year. Still painted as black as the Reaper’s cowl, with torches along the upper walls that had come to life the moment they’d stepping through the door into the room, casting enough light by which to see the stairs that led down into the chamber itself.

Leading the way, Hermione hurriedly took those stairs down. They led to a raised dais in the centre of the room, upon which sat an ancient, forbidding stone archway with a tattered, pitch-coloured curtain that flapped in a mysterious wind.

The Dark Archway.

She looked away from it with a shudder, remembering the way Sirius had melted into the dark portal between the arches, his body dissolving from solid to spirit within seconds, as if his very essence had been siphoned away by the dark god, Thanatos. Would it be the same for her—for  _them_?

Or would turning the door change not only the purpose of the arch, as Luna had contended, but also the sensation of stepping through it?

“According to Kingsley’s Patronus, Umbridge went back in time today, an hour or so ago,” she told her companions as they hurried down the steep stairs to the bottom. “After three years, we’ve finally come to the moment that changed everything: when the Dark Queen went back in time to tell her younger self how to win the war and beat Voldemort.”

Pansy Parkinson hurried along at Hermione’s side, her dark hair pulled back into a high ponytail that curled at the ends, her Muggle jeans just as faded and torn as Hermione’s, but her chin held high despite how far she’d fallen over the years.

“That frog-like, flabby bitch,” the witch snarled. “I’m still irritated that we couldn’t kill her until now.”

Hermione stopped and grabbed Parkinson’s arm to force her to stop as well. “I know how you feel, but you know why we couldn’t act all these years. You’ve read Trelawney’s journal that same as I have. If we’d killed Dolores Umbridge before this moment, the past would be forever sealed in stone. We needed to wait until this exact moment, when she went back in time, so we could follow her and stop her back then, before her younger-self kills Malfoy. The timeline changes if we do this right. We stop her past-self becoming the Dark Queen today.”

Pansy sighed and waved her off, jarring loose the hold on her. “I know the mission, Granger. We stop Umbridge from cornering Draco in the Slytherin dorms and killing him, and he remains the master of the Elder Wand. We change everything that came after that,” she recited, rolling her eyes. “Draco can then give the wand to Potter instead, Potter can fulfill his prophecy and kill Voldemort, and the world is saved from ever having to live under the Pink Menace’s fucked-up fascist regime. Hurrah.”

The witch paused, touching the necklace she wore around her throat. She’d never taken off the small gold chain with its diamond solitaire pendant, not once since Blaise Zabini had given it to her as a token of his love, three years prior. It had been all she had left of him after Dolores had hunted him and his family down for their political fence-sitting, and Hermione knew the other woman clung by a thread to the hope it represented.

“It’s the whole ‘going back in time’ thing I’m unsure of,” Pansy admitted, clearly unsettled. She looked over at the ominous stone archway, which seemed to suck the very air from the room with its silent patience. “How do we know we’re going to be able to do it?”

“Because our sacrifice to the Archway will be remarkable enough for it to permit us passage,” Luna reminded them all.

Hermione winced at such bluntness, but knew her friend was right. She pointed to the dark cowl lying at the foot of the archway. “See there? Umbridge threw a Dementor to the Archway as her ritual victim. As non-beings, though, like Boggarts and Poltergeists, the Dementor’s life would have generated only a paltry amount of magical energy. Frankly, the Queen was lucky the portal opened at all, much less that she was allowed to pass through it. We’re sacrificing  _actual_  flesh and blood, however.” Her gaze moved to Lavender Brown, who stood stoically near the back of the pack. “That should provide enough power to the portal to allow the six of us to pass through.”

“You hope,” Pansy pointed out. She glanced in Brown’s direction as well. “You Gryffindors, foolishly brave to a fault,” she murmured.

“And you Slytherins, always looking out for your own skins,” Cho Chang snidely countered.

Hermione inwardly sighed and wanted to slap a gag on Cho before things escalated further. She and Parkinson had not gotten on at all since the secret coven had been established. Chang was a woman who didn’t abide mind games, and Pansy excelled at them. They were diametrically opposed on every level—except when it came to finishing off Umbridge. The two were united in at least that much, their hatred for the witch giving them a reason to cooperate.

Astoria Greengrass, having overheard the conversation, came up alongside Cho and put a restraining hand on her lover’s shoulder, and to Hermione’s relief, Cho seemed to relax. “Not to speak badly of the dead,” the younger witch said, “and I know this isn’t exactly the time to bring it up, but I need to ask it again before we go any further: do you really think Trelawney could be trusted as an accurate source for seeing the future? She always seemed a few Knuts short of a Galleon to me.”

“The greatest white wizard of our time, Albus Dumbledore, kept her close because he knew she was a true Seer, not a charlatan,” Padma Patil spoke up in defence of her former mentor. “I believe that’s a good testament as to her legitimacy.”

Glancing up the stairs, Hermione was once more caught and unnerved by the diamond-white stare Patil leveled on her. There was no colour to the iris of the other witch’s eyes, just a thin ring of black on the outer rim of what had once been a shade of dark brown. The white backdrop was shot through by two black pinpoints that were the pupils, but that was all the colour there was to her gaze.

With the witch’s powers as a Vedic Rshikä, a heavenly-inspired poet-seer, finally revealing itself upon her coming of age, Hermione wondered how much of what Patil saw anymore was even the real world versus some “enlightened” version of it.

“I have already explained that in her final journal entry, Sybill claimed there were two dimensions that had converged when Dolores Umbridge went back in time: ‘the one that is, and the one that should have been’,” the former Ravenclaw told the group. “Her last vision was of seeing the former transformed into the latter by a coven led by you, Hermione. After studying her writings, I believe that is the most accurate of any prophecy she’d ever made, as it was done at the very end of her life, when she was close enough to the Veil to see the cosmic tapestry of life very clearly.”

Parkinson snorted, and Hermione knew it was because she’d never put much stock in Trelawney, despite their friend’s belief in the woman. “Yeah, well she also predicted that Potter and Voldemort were supposed to face off, but in the end, it was Umbridge who killed the Dark Lord with the Elder Wand.”

“That is the timeline that should have been,” Padma stated, confident in that belief. “Umbridge changed that when she went back in time and killed Draco Malfoy. Then, as the new master of the Elder Wand, she took the wand and hunted down Harry Potter. Upon his death, she took his place in the ‘Chosen One’ prophecy, and thus was able to finish off Voldemort, becoming the Dark Queen.” She adjusted the honey-coloured swatch of fabric that draped over her shoulder, allowing it to fall beautifully across her white and orange saree—the uniform of her holy office. “Trelawney’s last prophecy states that we were meant to change those events by going back in time to stop Dolores Umbridge and set the universe back upon its correct course.”

“So, since nothing has changed yet for us, does that mean that Umbridge’s plan is, so far, on the path she originally set it?” Astoria asked. “She’s still winning?”

Padma nodded. “Yes, this timeline will not change until one of the events that lead to our current timeline is altered.”

Astoria gripped her head. “No matter how many times you girls say it, it’s still confusing to me. I’ll just trust you know what you’re doing.”

“My turn. Reassure me,” Pansy said, raising her hand and waving it around obnoxiously. “Okay, so how do we know using the Dark Archway as a Time-Turner won’t end up in us stuck between hours and minutes forever?”

“Because the arch _isn’t_  a Time-Turner,” Luna said, looking down upon the artefact she’d spent the last two years studying, once she’d determined its importance in Umbridge’s time traveling plans. “It’s a doorway, not an un-winder of time.”

“Explain it to me one more time,” Pansy prompted her.

Luna seemed stuck to explain things simpler than she had, so Hermione picked up the baton and gave it a whirl in her friend’s stead. “According to all the research Luna and I did on the Dark Archway, it opens a portal between the current date and one in the past of your choice, but it doesn’t actually change the physical time of day. If you walk through the Archway when the clock strikes noon here, you will arrive at your destination in the past at noon.”

She continued on towards their goal and glanced at her wrist watch as they hit the bottom stair. As the watch wasn’t quartz or digital, but mechanical, magic never interfered with its function.

“It’s a little past nine in the morning right now. We know from history that around ten in the morning on the fourth of March, 1998, Umbridge enters Headmaster Snape’s office at Hogwarts from the Ministry Floos above us. She then makes her way down into the Slytherin boy’s dormitory, and around half-past eleven o’clock, she kills Draco as he’s returning from his morning classes and getting ready to go up to the Great Hall for lunch. In doing so, she kills the master of the Elder Wand and becomes the wand’s new master. Then, she heads over to Dumbledore’s tomb nearby and physically takes the Elder Wand into her possession around noon. From there, things progress as we remember them.”

“We’re cutting it a little short. Isn’t it likely that Dark Queenie has already contacted her past-self with the plan?” Pansy asked.

Hermione nodded. “Yes, I knew weren’t going to be able to catch her before that happened, because we didn’t know the exact date that the Dark Queen originally went back in time from this end of the timeline. We were always going to be playing catch-up, needing to sneak into the Ministry, but only after we were alerted by Luna and Kingsley that Umbridge had made her move. Our best chance of changing the timeline was never going to be stopping her from going through the Dark Archway, but from preventing her past-self from killing Draco Malfoy. If at least one of us can beat her to the Slytherin dorms and get Malfoy out before she arrives, and afterwards do our best to keep him alive and out of her hands, the others can put into play our plan to kill the Dark Queen. Then it’s just a matter of erasing the past Umbridge’s memories–”

“I vote for killing her outright,” Cho stated.

“Or finding a way to end her life,” Hermione agreed, knowing it would be impossible from asking any of these women from exacting their rightful revenge upon the woman who had brought them all so much suffering. “Either way, Umbridge never becomes master of the Elder Wand and the timeline changes. Harry remains the ‘Chosen One’…and hopefully finds a way to kill Voldemort someday.”

She looked around at her gathered companions seeing the trepidation on some faces.

“Look, I’m not going to sugar-coat it: we all know this is a one-way trip. Still, this is your last chance to back out. At least if you stay behind, you’ll simply be erased from history, if we succeed. That’s a painless and instantaneous death. I can’t guarantee that will be true if you follow me through the Archway.”

Glances were exchanged and everyone in the coven nodded silently their agreement that they were in. They would not be turning back.

“Okay.” Hermione nodded to Padma. “Show us what you’ve got.”

Patil reached into a pouch hanging from her hip and withdrew something from its depths. She held out her hand to them, and in the centre of her palm were six rings, each with a different stone. “When we all agreed to this plan last year, I began working on these, with Hermione’s and Luna’s help. They are enchanted with Holy Song and bespelled with a powerful Reversal and Stasis Charm, similar to that used on Time-Turners. While we are in the past, they will keep us in a state of time-suspension.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Pansy asked, eyeing a platinum band with the round-cut emerald.

The Seer started handing out the rings to the group as she explained. “Because we did not attempt this plan previously, just by stepping through the Dark Archway today, we will shift the universe from its current path to another. That changes everything, including us. These rings I’ve made will prevent you—the person you are right here and now—from disappearing as our original timeline is erased and rewritten. They will allow us all to be magically displaced from time so we can fulfill our purpose.”

Hermione glanced at the ring in her hand. It was a round-cut fire opal in a gold setting. She slid it onto her left ring finger, deciding that was the closest she’d ever come to wearing a commitment ring in her life, so she might as well marry the cause.

“When any one of you has finished your task in the past, you need only turn the stone in its setting a full one-hundred and eighty degrees and the spell upon it—and you—will then be broken and you will become ‘un-stuck’ in time,” Padma explained. “You will disappear as if you never had existed as a result of the changes you’ve made to the timeline. Your past-self will go on to live the fate you’ve arranged for her, and you will phase out of existence.”

“And what if one of us dies while in the past before we can change anything significant?” Cho asked.

“If someone is killed, the same will occur as if their stone was turned,” Padma explained.

Everyone was quiet for a moment, the fear of failure again gnawing away at their confidence. Hermione couldn’t let them dwell there long, knowing that doubt was an eater of souls.

“Remember that we’re going back to a time when Voldemort controlled the Ministry, which means Disillusionment Charms and Apparition are warded against inside the Ministry lobby,” she reminded them all, getting back to business. “Therefore, it’s going to require stealth to make it up to the Lobby from the Department of Mysteries. A Silencing Charm on your shoes would be the smartest precaution.”

“Yeah, and once we’re there, the Dark Queen might be waiting for us to keep us from interfering in her plans,” Cho pointed out. “So prepare your shields.”

“Or, she could be waiting for us in the Headmaster’s office when we Floo into Hogwarts,” Astoria added.

Hermione agreed. “Either way, I think it’s prudent to expect a battle before we get to the Slytherin dungeons.”

“We all know the plan, Hermione,” Pansy said, putting a hand on her arm. “You’ve done an amazing job getting us here and preparing us.”

And yet, it didn’t feel like enough, Hermione thought.

She looked around at her companions, women she’d secretly been working with for most of the last year, if not two, since she’d initially formed this coven at Padma’s insistence. They hadn’t all been friends when this had begun. In fact, it had taken some serious convincing (and a lot of fighting, shouting, and blocking a hex or two) for Pansy, Cho, and Lavender to finally believe that Trelawney’s prophecy had been meant for them. But now they were like her sisters, even when they squabbled.

–And today, she was sending them all to their deaths, whether they succeeded or not, because the absolute best outcome they could hope for from this undertaking was that their timeline would be erased and everyone with it. This was a no-win scenario for the whole group, and they all knew it.

Despite that, they looked to Hermione for direction and with determination, accepting of their fates. They were all going to do whatever it took to stop Dolores Umbridge from winning.

In her secret heart, Hermione was determined to protect Draco Malfoy as well. Terrible, terrorized boy that he’d been, trapped between his parents’ lives and a madman’s rule…

Reaching into her jeans pocket, she ran her fingertips over the faded and wrinkled Muggle photo she kept there, reminding herself once more of what she’d given up once, and would never again. Not if she could help it.

She’d save him, no matter what.

“Right then, onto it,” Hermione said with a sharp nod. She turned and glanced at the horribly scarred face of Lavender Brown. “Any last requests?” she asked the woman in the same kind of quiet, solemn manner one use at a funeral.

Brown’s fingers traced over the scars on her cheek and throat, her disfigured mouth twisting with dark cynicism. “Save Parvati, kill Greyback, and burn that Umbridge bitch to ash,” the witch replied, her voice unwavering, her tone dark. Her mismatched left eye, now a sickly yellow-brown colour that reminded Hermione of diseased phlegm, twitched and looked angrily upon them, while the right, a stunning blue the colour of a spring sky, looked passively back at her. Fenrir Greyback’s attack during a rather heated skirmish outside Covington had forever tainted her DNA, turning her into a Jekyll-Hyde type of chimera. Right now, the human side was in control, but no one knew how long that could last. “That’s all I want for my birthday,” she finished.

Astoria saddled up to Lavender and hugged her from the side. “We’ll make sure your candles go ‘boom’ in that Pink Boggart’s face,” she promised her friend.

Brown patted Astoria’s blonde head in unspoken thanks, and then gruffly disentangled herself from the girl. “Let’s get this show on the road,” she said and turned to the arch, heading up the dais to it and standing at its side.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**_“_ ** **_Nobody goes home. Nobody else comes through._ ** **_”_ **

**– Kyle Reese, “The Terminator”**

 

Hermione gripped her wand a little tighter in her hand and followed Lavender towards the dais where the Dark Archway sat. The others came behind her, as solemn and serious, now that they’d come to it.

When they got to the top and stood to the side of the arch, Luna stepped forward. As an Unspeakable in the Ministry and a mole for the coven, she’d been the one to figure out how Dolores had managed to go back in time. Her discovery had been quite by accident, when she’d approached the arch on her own and began talking to the voices on the other side of the curtain. They’d told her how to turn the stone and change its purpose.

“See the rune at the very top, in the centre, the one that seems to glow red,” Luna said, pointing to a spot on the arch where stylized Elder Furthak runes had been carved.

   


“It’s called ‘Algiz’, but it’s inverted. When it’s like that, it represents death. That’s why the Dark Archway is currently a conduit between the world of the living and the Veil of the afterlife.”

She indicated a rune to its immediate left. “That one is ‘Ansuz’.”

   


“It allows communion with the divine,” Padma interrupted, staring up at the rune with something akin to awe. “I can feel its power from here.”

“Yes,” Luna agreed. “When Ansuz is activated, its rune glows yellow and the doorway changes to allow you to speak with the gods.”

She then pointed to a different rune to the right of the centre. “But the one we want to activate is that one, ‘Dagaz’, which represents a paradigm shift, or a time change.” 

  

“Okay, so how do we move it?” Pansy asked, sounding a tad exasperated.

Luna looked at her in that blank, fathomless manner that she was famous for, and yet, when she spoke, she did so with all assurance and her words carried power. “You turn the arch to the right.” She pointed down at their feet, and for the first time, Hermione noted that the arch itself was situated on a section of stone that appeared as if it could turn in a circle. “Dagaz will glow blue. You then call out the day, month, and year you want to go to, and the doorway changes so you can step through to that time in the past.”

“Yes, but it sucks the life from you to do it, you said,” Cho reminded them. “A hefty price to pay.”

“It would have to be, wouldn’t it?” Luna asked, staring into the archway’s black curtain, as if she could see the trapped souls beyond it and fathom their ultimate purpose. “If there was no toll for becoming a traveller through time then everyone would do it and change whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. The universe would unravel from all those comings and goings. Death is the great balancer.”

With a deep, world-weary exhale, Hermione turned and met Lavender’s mismatched gaze once more. “You ready?”

“Fuck, yes,” her former housemate growled. “I hate my life anyway. At least this way, I’ll get the satisfaction of using it up for a good cause.”

Feeling her heart squeeze with pity, Hermione reached out and offered her hand to the girl who had once, long ago, been her roommate and her romantic rival. The ‘thank you’ went unspoken, but was clearly understood when Lavender took her hand and pumped it once.

Luna stepped back. “We’ll have to link hands.” She held hers out and Astoria took it. From there, the chain began, with the remaining six witches of their coven linking them into a chain. “Don’t let go until after we arrive, or you could be lost between worlds forever.”

Grips were firmed up, and then Lavender put her shoulder behind the arch and used her weight to turn it. There was no pomp, no dramatic music to accompany her heroic, lionhearted sacrifice. The grating, grinding sound of stone scraping over stone was the only fanfare to accompany the end of such a brave life.

The portal moved slowly, the ancient stone swiveling to the right, where the group had moved in preparation for the jump. As it moved, the Dark Archway began extracting its payment. Lavender grunted, sweat breaking out on her brow, and her body glowed with a dark red aura. She heaved, putting everything she had into moving the arch, but it only sluggishly obeyed the force applied against it. “It’s fighting me, trying to move back,” she grunted, gritting her teeth. She looked wild, feral, as if the monstrous wolf lurking just under her skin was trying to break free, too.

With a final surge and a loud grunt from Lavender, the arch clicked into place, the rune for Dagaz glowed blue and the light behind the curtain changed, becoming a white so bright that it nearly seared the eyes to look upon it.

“March the tenth, 1998,” Brown called out, and the doorway flickered as it reset to the date called out, and then it glowed blue. “Go now,” Lavender weakly bade them and slumped over, sliding down the stone archway to the floor, her legs giving out, her great strength at an end as the magic of the arch sucked her life away.

Forcing her eyes away from the sight of Lavender’s form withering into a dry husk of skin and bone, Hermione looked down at her feet instead, keeping the doorway at the top of her vision at all times. She tightened her grip on Pansy’s sweaty hand.

“Hang on,” she shouted over the sudden rush of wind that blew through the chamber, and with that, hurried through the gate, yanking Pansy behind her, who had a hold on the coven train.

Stepping past the curtain and into the white light was painful and loud. The sound of a thousand freight trains rushing past nearly deafened Hermione’s hearing, and each step was agony, as if a million shards of ice were being rammed up each and every nerve in her body. She screamed, but clamped down on Pansy’s hand.

Suddenly, all sound stopped, and then Hermione was falling over…falling into the past.


	3. Chapter 3

**_“_ ** **_It is time.”_ **

**– The Terminator, “Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines”**

 

Hermione came to while flat on her back on the cool, black stone in the Death Chamber.

Had it worked?

Every muscle, every bone hurt with a dull, throbbing ache, reminding her of the more unpleasant moments of her puberty from a decade before, but still, she managed to coordinate enough energy and overcome enough pain to roll to her side, and then to her knees, until finally, she weakly made her feet.

Before her, the Dark Archway was silent and as black as midnight once more, the symbol for ‘Algiz’ lit up in its high centre, indicating it had returned to its default state of rest. Lavender’s desiccated body was nowhere to be seen at its foot.

Quickly glancing around and counting heads, she was relieved to find everyone else had made it, and that they were slowly stirring to life as well. Luna was already on her feet, in fact, wobbling in place, but making an effort to stay standing. Hermione crossed to her, every step becoming easier. To her right, she heard Pansy swearing up a storm as she rolled over and got an elbow under her to raise her head off the floor. The witch spit a bit of blood from her mouth then, and touched her tongue, checking it for damage. Obviously, she’d bitten it rather hard.

“I feel like I just took a _Crucio_  from one of the Lestrange boys…again.”

“Quit your bitching,” Cho snapped, pausing on one knee as she worked to get the strength into her legs to stand. “At least you didn’t have all the blood and water sucked out of you while you were still alive.” _Like Lavender,_  went unsaid, but everyone understood. They’d seen. “I’m quite sure being mummified within seconds is a far more excruciating sensation.”

“We should move,” Padma prompted them, heading off that fight and accepting Luna’s hand up and again adjusting her saree, the symbol of her religious status as a Holy Seer, so it sat right upon her shoulder. “Surely someone heard that noise and will come check this room.”

Hermione agreed and offered Cho, and then Pansy a hand up. Astoria had gotten to her feet on her own. The six women looked at each other in silence for a moment, the enormity of having survived a time crossing and what they were about to do now in destroying their own timeline completely hitting them all at once.

“We made it here. We can do the rest of it,” Hermione said, giving them a pep talk to erase the doubts and fears etched clearly across the face of her friends. “Just stick to the plan and to your partner, and let’s do what we came to do. This is for us, and for Lavender, and Malfoy, and Blaise, and Harry…and for everyone. We’re going to change the world’s fate, hopefully for the better.”

“Can’t see as how it could be any worse,” Astoria murmured.

The others nodded in agreement.

Astoria took Cho’s hand, and Luna took Padma’s in solidarity. Pansy came to stand next to Hermione, not touching her, but her strong presence so close by was reassuring. They were only six now, but they had each other to see this mad plan through.

“Remember: there is no fate, but what we make for ourselves,” Luna added. She pointed to the saying above the Death Chamber’s entrance, its gold lettering glimmering in the torchlight around the room.

Hermione nodded in full agreement.

“Alright, I’ve always wanted to be a hero!” Astoria added, pumping the air with her fist. “Let’s stop the Evil Cat Lady once and for all!”

Despite the lingering sadness over Lavender’s death, and the difficult challenge facing them ahead, it was impossible not to at least smile at Greengrass’ attempt to lighten the mood. Luna actually giggled, and Pansy shook her head, grinning.

Then, the coven turned together, wands out and eyes alert, and headed out of the Department of Mysteries, preparing for the fight of their lives.

 

* * *

 

The battle to get to through the Lobby to the Ministry Floos had gone badly. They’d lost Cho to a Death Eater’s Killing Curse near the main fountain, and Astoria had been injured in Floo transit when she’d leapt through the Ministry fireplace just as someone hit her with a Knock-back jinx. Fortunately, the spell had merely hit Astoria’s leg, which was why only her leg had splinched.

Hermione had packed away some Dittany in case of emergency in the bag she always carried on her hip, and so was able to treat the injury to their youngest member once she’d arrived at Snape’s abandoned office in Hogwarts. Unfortunately, Astoria couldn’t put any pressure on the leg, and had to be left behind as the others made their way out. She promised to guard the Floo grate, in case anyone followed behind them.

Leading the others out of the Headmaster’s office, Hermione only had time to nod good-bye to Astoria Greengrass and to wish her luck.

The remaining coven hurried down the tower stairs, but were set upon unexpectedly when they emerged onto the Grand Staircase. It seemed the Umbridge in the present timeline had alerted the Death Eaters in the school as to an imminent attack, and so when the coven hit the stairs leading down towards the Entrance Hall, a barrage of spells were sent upwards from various levels below them. Hermione ducked as a Blasting Spell hit the marble railing next to her hand, sending up shards of stone.

“We don’t have time for this,” she shouted to her friends, indicating her watch. “It’s half-past ten now.”

Luna stood up and shot a _Stupefy_  down at someone directly below them. A man screamed as he slammed into a wall, and then he went silent. She ducked back down at Hermione’s side. “You can go now,” she said very matter-of-factly.

“We should split up, draw their fire from you,” Padma stated. “Luna and I will head up to the Room of Requirement, while you head down to the dungeons. At least someone can warn the Order about Umbridge’s plans, in case we fail here. They’re hiding in there, remember?”

Hermione cast several Blasting and Lightning Strike hexes downward, her aim wild and erratic to throw the enemy off. “Good idea,” she said. “Pansy, you’re the only one who knows how to get into the Slytherin common room anyway, so I need you with me.”

They all nodded, wished each other luck, and then Luna and Padma made a tactical retreat upwards, hunching behind railings, one protecting the other with the _Protego_  spell on exposed stairs, and firing random hexes and curses down on their attackers.

Hermione could spare them no more attention as she and Pansy began using her friend’s diversion as their means of rushing downwards several flights of stairs. They _Petrify’d_ and tripped up Death Eaters as they went, until they were at last on the ground floor of the Entrance Hall.

That’s where they’d made their mistake.

Their attention on the Grand Staircase, in case any of their victims got up again, they failed to look behind at the stairs leading down into the dungeons.

A purple light hit Pansy from behind. She screamed and went down.

Hermione turned just in time to see something pink scurry down the stairs into the darkness below.

Lifting Pansy under the arms, Hermione quickly dragged her downed friend into the shadow and protection of a wall. There was blood everywhere, smearing a trail behind them, covering Hermione’s clothing and hands. No matter what she tried, nothing seemed to close the cuts that had opened up all over Pansy’s body.

Her friend shuddered, choking on blood and gasping for air. She was breathing so hard in panic that her blood flowed only faster. “P-passage behind t-the s-stone w-w-wall,” she stammered, reaching up and ripping her necklace from her throat and pressing it into Hermione’s hand. “B-barrel in front. P-p-p-password is ‘B-b-bumbling B-b-bezoars’. G-go.”

“I can’t stop it!” Hermione wailed, feeling the diamond pendant dig into her palm. She tried everything she could to close the wounds on Pansy’s body, to no avail. “I don’t know the counter-curse. I can’t save you!”

The twitching and jerking that had overtaken Pansy’s body after being hit by the strange spell tapered off, and her eyes began glazing over. Her body was already cooling as too much blood had been lost.

The Slytherin smirked. “S-stupid. Already…did.”

The light went out in Pansy Parkinson’s eyes, and the emerald on her finger went dark and slowly turned on its own. Within seconds, Pansy’s still-warm body evaporated into thin air, erased from existence.

The Great Staircase and Entrance Hall were quiet. Hermione gave herself twenty seconds to feel the pain of that loss behind a hand slapped hastily over her mouth, and then she shoved Pansy’s necklace into a pocket of her jeans and forced her legs under her, propelling her to her feet, determined to finish it.

She wiped the tears from her eyes and checked her watch. Ten minutes to the hour.

Good, there was still time.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**_“Come with me if you want to live."_**

**\- Kyle Reese, “The Terminator"**

 

The Slytherin common room’s entrance was exactly as Pansy had described: a stone wall behind a wooden barrel.

The entrance was open when Hermione arrived.

Carefully, on stealthy feet, she made her way down the short corridor and into the main common area. At another time, she might have taken a moment to gawk at the differences between Slytherin’s palatial-styled sitting room, with its marble walls and black leather couches. However, the fact that there were no students to be found standing or lounging around in the area set her teeth on edge.

Someone or something had scared the Slytherins into hiding in their dorms.

Making her way down the side stairs clearly marked as “BOYS”, Hermione crept on feet well-practised in the art of silent movement. Three years of sneaking around buildings throughout the whole of England and dodging the Dark Queen had made her something of an expert at it.

The boy’s dormitory was the reverse of the Gryffindor one; rather than the older boys taking rooms higher up, heading towards the sky, they took the lower levels deeper into the earth. Seven more flights of stairs leading down, and Hermione knew an eldritch darkness. It was colder here, too, deep in the earth, and yet, there were no tapestries lining the stone walls to heat it. Instead, there were magically lit braziers all along either side of the hallway, their reddish-orange glow lighting the way, producing no smoke.

Hermione was undisturbed as she reached the door of one Draco Malfoy near the end of the corridor, in one of the rooms furthest from the stairs. With a nonverbal _Protego_  cast to shield her from any attack from those inside, she grasped the handle of his room and pushed the door open. Immediately, the sounds of several young men having a rowdy time reached her ears.

Wait, hadn't Draco had been alone when Umbridge had come for him? She could have sworn... 

They'd changed things already. The fight in the Ministry to reach the Floos hadn't happened before, nor the fight on the stairs. Those events had already changed things from what she'd known.

She listened in on the conversation, keeping an eye down the hallway at the same time.

“…should’ve seen them,” Theodore Nott was saying. “They were shagging right there on the desk!”

“But they’re brother and sister,” Vincent Crabbe stated, sounding confused.

“Doesn’t matter to that lot,” Malfoy said with a sneer in his tone. “They’re all sick as fuck, and the Carrows will rape anything. Not surprising they’d do each other.”

“Better not let anyone hear you say that,” Theo warned.

Hermione sneaked into the room right as Gregory Goyle headed towards the door. “Oh, ‘scuse me,” Goyle said, stepping back from her.

Suddenly, everyone in the room stopped, as they all realised there was a stranger in their room.

Hermione quickly shut the door behind her and locked it. “I can explain,” she said, as the four boys all moved at once, taking up defensive positions and whipping their wands out. “I’m not here to fight!” she shouted, as several spells hit her shield, crackling against it and rolling off, their energy discharged by her Protection charm. “Would you stop! I’ll surrender if you do.”

At that point, she’d have said anything to get them to stop firing at her and give her a chance to speak. There wasn’t any time left to play with them.

All four boys stopped firing spells.

“Is that Hermione Granger?” Theo asked.

“Yes, you _dum kauff_ , it’s me,” she stated, exasperated. “I’m not here to fight you! I haven’t the time to explain, but someone’s on their way here now to kill all of you, and I’m trying to stop her.”

There was a moment of incredulous disbelief, and with a sigh, she tried to explain quickly. “Look, I could have _Stupefy’d_ all of you and had you hog-tied before you were even aware of my presence for the length of time I was standing in the doorway. I didn’t, though, did I?”

“You could not,” Crabbe stated.

Someone cleared their throat in disagreement.

“Uh, actually, she could,” Theo stated, quite sure of that fact, recalling the time he’d been assigned her partner in fourth year D.A.D.A. class to practice spells as part of the fake-Moody’s curriculum. “She’s, uh, fast on the draw, and wicked accurate.”

“There, see?” she said. “Now, I need to lower the shield and explain things to you. Can we all behave as civilized human beings for a moment? There’s an assassin on her way to kill you right now, and I’d like to prevent that, if you don’t mind.”

“What assassin?” Malfoy asked, sounding his usual belligerent self.

Hermione peeked over the edge of her shield. “Umbridge.”

The boys all laughed at that.

“I’m fucking serious,” she snarled. “This is no joke. Listen and understand: that foul bitch is out there right now, Malfoy, and she can’t be bargained with or reasoned with. She doesn’t feel pity, or remorse, or fear. She intends to kill you, and she absolutely will not stop until you are dead.”

Everyone stopped laughing.

“She just swore!” Goyle stated, sounding shocked to his bones. “Did’ja hear that? Granger just said bad words!"

It was then that she recalled that her younger self had made it something of a crusade since first year to correct others whenever they profaned in her presence, lecturing them on the crudity and the lack of intelligence it took in using such language.

“For heaven's sake, do you need me to take a vow of no harm against you to prove my intentions?” She held her wand straight up into the air. “Fine. I swear upon my witch’s powers that I am not here to cause hurt to any boy in this room. There, satisfied?”

“Drop the shield and I will be.”

“Not until you lower your wands, Malfoy,” she countered. “Then, I’ll do the same.”

“You know there’s a bounty out for you,” Theo remarked. “The Dark Lord would pay a lovely price for your head to anyone who brought you in, alive or dead.”

She sighed. “Seriously, you have bigger fish to fry right now than your Master. Umbridge is here to kill Draco, and if she succeeds, the world as we all know it will burn. She’ll make what the Dark Lord has done so far seem like a trip to the candy store in comparison. Besides, it’s like you said: there’s a bounty out for me. Why would I risk coming out into the open knowing that? Why would I risk coming to _Hogwarts_  of all places, especially into the Slytherin dungeons, knowing that if I was captured, I’d become food for the crows?”

“You wouldn’t,” Malfoy stated, straightening up from his position behind his bunk, but keeping his wand trained on her, “not unless it was important.”

“Which it _is_ ,” she insisted. “Please, lower your wands and listen to what I have to say. That’s all I’m asking.”

Malfoy came around the bunk, wand still pointed in her direction, but his eyes dipped to take her in through the transparent shield. “Why is there blood all over you?”

 _Don’t cry,_  she thought.

“There was a fight, on the Grand Staircase, just a few minutes ago. My friend died in that fight so I could get here in time to save you lot,” she said around a hard, achy lump in her throat, “so, please don’t let her sacrifice be in vain.”

“Who was it?” Theo asked.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione stared at Malfoy when she said, “Pansy Parkinson.”

That was when all hell broke loose.

 

* * *

 

The high-pitched, agonized scream came from further down the hall, near the stairs. Hermione couldn’t peg who it belonged to, but it was definitely male.

She looked at her watch. Twenty past eleven. Close enough.

“We’re out of time,” she said. In quick order, while they were all distracted by the commotion down the hall, she _Stupefy'd_  Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott. They dropped in place without a chance to counter her quick spell-casting. Then, she hid them under their beds to assure Umbridge wouldn't find them and torture any information from them. "They'll wake in an hour or two. They'll be fine," she told Malfoy. "No harm, remember? It's you she wants."

There was more screaming, this time nearer. Malfoy’s eyes jerked to the door, then back to her.

“You weren’t lying.”

“No, I wasn’t,” she very firmly told him and dropped her protective shield, approaching Malfoy without any thought to fearing his wand, which was suddenly in her face. “Umbridge is after you.”

“Why?”

Hermione hesitated, and Malfoy saw it.

“Lie to me and I’ll kill you myself,” he said, poking her cheek with the tip of his wand.

“Before Dumbledore died, you disarmed him on the Astronomy Tower,” she explained, quickly. “When you did, you became master of his wand. Umbridge wants it. The only way she can use the wand, though, is to defeat you, its current master. It won’t change its allegiance to her otherwise.”

“And why should any wand but her own matter to her?” he asked.

“Because that wand is the only one in the world that can defeat the Dark Lord.”

"Are you telling me she’s working against her own Master?”

Hermione nodded and let the implication lie between them. As a Slytherin, he would understand what wasn’t being said.

He dropped his wand and ran a rough hand through his hair, ruffling it. “Fuck, I knew that pink pygmy-puff had gone mental.”

Hermione nodded. “She has, but more importantly, she will succeed. I’ve seen the future. I know what happens,” she admitted aloud, bending the truth a bit so as not to give away too much about who she really was and where she’d come from. “You have to believe me. She’ll kill Voldemort, and then she’ll kill everyone who was loyal to him—including every Death Eater and their immediate family members. The survivors will cower in fear and refer to her as their Dark Queen, and she will remake England as she tried to do to Hogwarts in fifth year. It’ll be hell on earth for wizard and Muggle alike. She’s pure evil.”

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed in consideration, and he ignored another scream from down the hall, this one closer.

“You’re different,” he said, suspicion in his gaze. “Why do you look different to me?”

Hermione shook her head. “No time for this. We can talk later. Right now, is there another way out of here, or do we have to battle our way past her?”

A third scream decided it for him. Malfoy turned and went to the wall opposite. He tapped on it in a certain sequence and the stone slid aside. Beyond it was the next dormitory room. He moved into that room and did it again to the far wall, and once more, the wall moved and a portal into the next room opened up.

“This way,” he said.

Just before she left through the new passage, Hermione turned and locked the door behind her with the strongest spell she could. Then, she ran through into the next room just as the wall began closing back into place. Hot on Malfoy's tail, she crossed room after room in the same manner, until she came to a final wall, where her charge stood, waiting for her to catch up.

“Down,” he said, indicating a hole in the floor that opened up when he tapped it with his wand. A metal stair led deep into the ground.

Without any thought to it possibly being a trick or a trap, Hermione climbed down, nimbly shuffling to the bottom. Malfoy was right behind her, moving just as quickly. The hole above them sealed itself back up, dropping them into darkness by the time her foot hit the floor.

With a non-verbal _Lumos_ , her wand lit up and she looked around. They were in a cave.

“Is this under the lake?” 

Her companion grunted and gave a nod, then cast an Illumination charm on his wand as well.

"This way," he said, taking the lead.

As they passed a sign with a hand pointing the same direction they were walking, she suddenly understood where they were. “This is the emergency exit for the Slytherin dorms, isn't it?" 

 _Hogwarts, A History_ had said every house had their own secondary way out of the castle in case of fire. Ravenclaws had charmed brooms, Hufflepuffs had a system of giant vines that could carry them to the surface, and apparently, Slytherins were expected to follow a tunnel under the earth to safety. "Actually, this is an excellent exit strategy," she told him. "In Gryffindor house, you were expected to hop on a magic carpet to escape the tower." She shuddered. "A dreadful idea, really."

Malfoy looked over his shoulder at her briefly, but didn't reply.

“So, where does it come out?” she asked, trying to visualize the terrain in her mind so she could minimize their risk of being seen and making it to cover when they emerged from the cave. To her chagrin, Slytherin's prince remained silent, his focus on their escape absolute. Every once in a while, he would look back over his shoulder beyond her, to assure they weren't being followed.

Using her wand, she _Scourgify’d_ Pansy's blood from her clothing and hands as they went, then reached into her pocket to assure the solitaire necklace and her good luck photo were still there and safe.

After a few minutes, the path began to gently slope upwards. 

Very quickly, they came to a solid stone wall. Once more, Draco tapped that same pattern out on the stone, and it slid aside soundlessly. Starlight greeted them on the other side. They both extinguished their wands, and stepped out onto a small stretch of beach under the Viaduct causeway, a spot well positioned to allow for privacy, and provide them cover.

So, this was the rumoured 'Shag Cove' that she'd heard about during her years as a Prefect. It was said to be the perfect location for a romantic rendezvous, as most teachers didn't know of it and the only way into it was from some secret passage within the castle that no one seemed to either know or want to divulge. During her years at Hogwarts, Hermione had believed it to be merely one of those silly tales that made the rounds and had no basis in truth, but now she knew better.

"Please tell me you only knew about this place because your house conducted emergency drills on a regular basis," she hissed quietly at Malfoy. They were far from the castle entrance, so it was unlikely anyone could hear them, but she'd still taken the precaution of creating a bubble of Silence around them the moment they'd stepped out onto the sand and she spoke as softly as possible.

His grin flashed in the moonlight. "Sure, Granger. Whatever you say."

She growled under her breath. "What I say is we need to move. We've got ground to cover before daylight." She took his wand from him, and then his hand when he reached for it to take it back. "We're in this together now. Stay low, stay with me, and I promise you, you'll live to see the sun rise."

Something in his expression shifted, and then he nodded, accepting her lead for the moment.

She gave his hand a squeeze in silent thanks for trusting her, and then led the way out of the cove, around the bottom of the Viaduct chasm, and down the beach, towards the Forbidden Forest in the distance. If they could reach the safety of its tree cover, they might just stand a chance.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**_“We all die for you.”_ **

**\- Derek Reese, “Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles”**

 

“So who are you, really?”

“Hermione Granger.”

Draco made a serpent-like _'tsch’_  sound of disbelief.

“I am,” she insisted. “If you want me to prove it, then all I have to say is, ‘Restricted Section’, and I think you’ll know what I mean.”

Behind her, his steps faltered and then stopped altogether.

Hermione turned to face him. In the moonlight filtering in through the trees all around, he looked wraith-like, his fair skin and hair paler than usual, his grey eyes nearly washed of their colour.  He was as still as the dead as well, and taking her in with a narrow-eyed gaze.

“You remember that night, I assume?” she asked.

He didn’t reply, but in his grey eyes, there was a spark of heat that she recalled quite well.

Turning away, she kept walking, determined not to be swayed in her duty by the memory of his warm, smooth skin against hers or how his kiss had tasted. That night she'd acted totally irresponsible, feeling emotionally vulnerable after having seen Ron and Lavender cozied away in a dark nook on the fifth floor going at it like rabbits, and Malfoy had been in the last place she’d expected: studying on a Saturday night in the library, sitting in her favourite spot. They’d argued, and something had finally snapped on both sides. Afterwards, they couldn’t even look at each other, and they’d certainly never spoken of it.

It had been a one-time thing, her first time, and although she’d thought it a revelation, she was sure he thought it a mistake. She'd been unable to forget, however, and had spent the remainder of that year and the nearly few months into the next watching him, hoping to prod his thoughts on the incident and wondering if he'd care to repeat the mistake.

...But then Dumbledore had died that June because of Malfoy's betrayal, and that had been the end of any real possibility for them.

His hand on her arm stopped her again. “What do you want with me?” he snarled. “Why are you here?”

“I already told you. I came here to stop Dolores Umbridge from killing you, because your death will allow her the one thing she needs to seize total power: mastery of Dumbledore’s wand.”

Draco’s eyes dipped to his own wand in his hand, and she saw it tremble. He licked his lips in nervousness.

That’s when it hit her…

“You feel it, don’t you? Dumbledore’s wand. It calls to you.”

His wide-eyed gaze shot to hers and his hand shook harder. Sweat dotted the top of his lip and at his brow.

“Not surprising,” she told him. “From the stories told about it, the Elder Wand influences its owner, primarily with dark thoughts. It believes that ‘might is right’ and has no true allegiance, except to those it considers strong enough to use it to obtain power.”

Malfoy frowned. “Is that what it’s called, then—the Elder Wand?”

She nodded. “Yes, and it’s one of the most powerful magical items ever created.” She turned and continued walking down the path, hoping the trail's end would appear sooner, rather than later. “It was created centuries ago by a wizard named Antioch Peverell, who was a bully and a braggart.” She looked over her shoulder at her silent companion. “Much like you. Well, the you before last year, anyway."

He sneered at her in response. "So, what happened to him? I don't remember reading about him taking over the world with it, so it can't be that strong a weapon."

Hermione shrugged. "He only got to use it once. The wand convinced Antioch to kill someone in a duel…and then it whispered to someone else it deemed stronger to murder Antioch in his sleep. It's made the rounds since, assuring each owner meets a sticky end in its search for the most worthy to wield it. It's loyalty is fleeting, but won over when its current master is defeated by magical means. And you haven't heard about it because, over the years, those who know its true origins and power have misdirected the public into believing the Elder Wand nothing but a fairy tale told to bad children to keep them in line.”

Once more, Malfoy snorted in disbelief. “What drivel! A wand is just a lump of wood.”

Hermione paused and turned to face him. “Haven’t you ever heard Garrick Ollivander say that a wand chooses its wizard?”

“Yeah, he says it to everyone when they get fitted for a wand. So?”

“So,” she said, pointedly glancing at his hand, “your Hawthorn wand isn’t as amicable towards you anymore, is it?”

At the tightening of his mouth, she nodded, her theory confirmed.

“It doesn’t like the competition. It’s displeased with you that you’ve taken another wand that may end up replacing it.”

As she made to turn back and keep walking, Malfoy grabbed her arm again, restraining her in place. “How do I know this isn’t all some set-up by you and Potter?”

She stared hard at him. “Because I said it wasn’t, and of the two of us, my word is the more trustworthy.”

He stepped in close to her and used his impressive height to attempt to intimidate her. “And why would you care if that pink skunder killed me, Granger? We’ve never gotten on, not even…then.”

Unimpressed with his attempt to frighten her, and refusing to be drawn into a discussion about their one-off from so long ago, she shoved him away. "I've already said. If you die, she will become the Elder Wand’s master.”

“And she'll use it to burn the world,” he stated, his voice dripping with cynicism. “You’ve cracked, Granger. Your time on the run has made you as looney as that Ravenclaw friend of yours.”

How could she prove what she was saying?

In a flash of insight, she knew how: Pansy.

Reaching into her shirt, she withdrew the diamond solitaire necklace and showed it to him. “Blaise gave it to Pansy this last Halloween, as a token of his affection. They’d secretly fallen in love last summer and were cheating behind your back, while your attentions were elsewhere. It started out as casual, but grew over time. She told you the night after she received this necklace that she planned to accept Zabini’s suit, and dumped you. I suspect you were trying to avoid her and Zabini after that, and that's why you were in the library the night we..."

 _Like me, he'd been stung and retreated to a place of safety,_  she thought. Clearly, that vulnerability had led to them both seeking comfort elsewhere, which explained their ill-considered, heat-of-the-moment sexual liaison.

"How could I know any of that, how could I even have this necklace if I didn’t know Pansy as a friend?” she finished.

Malfoy’s jaw dropped open in his astonishment, but still his eyes said he doubted her. “Pansy’s here this year, at school. Are you seriously trying to tell me that she’s a secret spy for your Order, and you’re her contact?” He scoffed. “What kind of fool do you take me for, Granger?”

“She was your first lover, and you were hers,” she determinedly continued. “It happened back in fourth year. The two of you left the Yule Ball early and you sneaked into her dorm room to shag. From stripping down to getting it on, the entire thing lasted all of half an hour, and you didn’t even bother with cunnilingus, despite the fact she’d given you fellacio first. You just fingered her until she was wet and then stuck it in. Three thrusts and it was over, and then you fell asleep on her. You snore. She finally kicked you out of her bed just before dawn so you could sneak back into the boy’s dorms. She bled so much from the experience, though, that she ended up having to go to Madam Pomfrey for help the next day. She lied and told Poppy that she’d been using her wand to masturbate and‒”

“Alright,” he said, letting her go and stepping back quickly. “So, you know Pansy and she’s a sodding snitch.” He threw her a sideways, narrow-eyed look. “Either that or you’ve used Legilimency on her and stolen her jewellery.”

“I did no such thing! She volunteered every word of those stories to me!”

‒And she was gone now. Forever. They would be no more sharing secrets or trading meaningless insults. Pansy was dead.

The tears came swift and were merciless. They forced Hermione to feel the pain of them and the anger they birthed. “She was my friend!” she hissed at him, wiping at her cheeks and fighting to speak over the sobs that made her hitch for breath. “She died tonight so I could save you, so honour her fucking sacrifice, you miserable rodent, or so help me, Draco Malfoy, I will curse you to the end of your days!”

With that, she grabbed his arm and shoved him to keep him moving forward.

 _Always forward, never back_ , she reminded herself of Moody's second favourite mantra.

“I’ve got to get you away from here,” she growled. “Take you somewhere safe.”

“Where?” he snarled, yanking his arm from her hold. “If you’re really who you say you are, then nowhere is safe. The Order will probably kill me if you bring me to them, and I can’t go home, because _he’s_  there. Where do you suggest I go to be safe from Umbridge, if she’s this determined to kill me?”

“The Shrieking Shack. It was our agreed upon fallback position if we made it this far. Fortunately, it’s close enough to reach on foot before dawn, and the last place anyone will think to look for the spoilt, elitist scion of the house of Malfoy.”

 

* * *

 

“This place is a dump,” he said, scowling.

“That’s the point,” Hermione reminded him, peeking through a crack in the boards that covered one window to assure no one had followed them.

It had taken all night to reach the ramshackle shack, and it had been a frustrating and unnerving walk as they'd had to take it slow and careful, with only the natural light around them to guide the way, as they couldn't risk wand light. Fortunately, they’d made it in an hour before dawn and hadn't been followed, as far as she could determine.

“It stinks, too. Couldn’t we go somewhere else?”

“No,” she said, speaking firmly. “We need to be off the grid, and this is perfect for that, for now. It’s abandoned, believed so haunted that not even the Hogwarts ghosts will come here, according to Nearly Headless Nick. It's close to food and news of the outside world. If we Disillusion ourselves, we could easily get what we needed inside the village, and…” Here she paused, desperate to cling to some hope, “there’s a secret passage that leads from the basement directly under the Whomping Willow. It might be possible to find the three remaining members of my group inside the castle, if they survived, and bring them here.”

The sun was rising. There were still wards to put up…

“The bed upstairs is probably dusty with cobwebs and age, but a Cleaning Charm can easily fix that.”

The hint didn’t go unnoticed. Malfoy muttered under his breath something that was, no doubt, unkind, but he took her advice, heading up towards the bedroom.

He stopped half-way and turned towards her. “What about you?”

“What about me?” she countered, moving to a different window and peeking through the boards to make sure the front yard was empty, too.

He was quiet for a bit, before he finally growled, “Forget it,” and kept going up the stairs to the bedroom located above.

Wasting no more time, she sneaked back outside via the back door, the way they’d come in, and began walking the yard, casting her protection and deflection spells. Hopefully, if tripped, these wards would give her and Malfoy enough time to get to the secret passage to escape. If not…well, the Shrieking Shack’s reputation as a ghost-haunted building would be secured for eternity, wouldn’t it?


	6. Chapter 6

**_"You have no idea what you're up against._ ** **_”_ **

**\- Dr. Peter Silberman, “Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines”**

 

A run into the village with a Transfigured face and outfit, and the bag of galleons Malfoy always kept on his person, and Hermione scored them their supplies in quick order, all while managing to dodge any Death Eater or Snatcher attention.

Doing a visual inventory of their stock after returning to the shack had her nodding in approval. Sure, she wished she had access to some prepackaged Muggle snack bars to go with the dried fruit and jerky she'd purchased from The Magic Neep. Still, the bag of roasted nuts would do in a pinch to give them quick protein energy when they needed it on the run.

“Too bad they didn’t have any Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder,” Malfoy remarked, noting the haul laid out on a repaired table in the former kitchen. “It makes for a good get-away in emergencies.”

“You would know," she stated, stashing their food items in the hip satchel she'd made that morning and charmed with an Undetectable Extensions Charm to carry their goods. 

He glared at her. “I’ve done what I had to do to save my parents, Granger. And I didn’t kill Dumbledore.”

“I’m aware,” she replied, having learned the truth of his motivations years after his death, when Luna had explained to them all how she’d heard during her time in Malfoy Manor’s dungeon how the Dark Lord had tormented Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy in their home. Hermione had previously known Snape had killed the former Headmaster from Harry, but she’d attributed that to Draco’s cowardice at the time. Now, she knew better; he’d been unwilling to take a life. That wasn’t the same thing as being gutless. Quite the opposite, actually. “I wasn’t judging you. You were between a rock and a hard place, and did the best you could with what you had.”

“But I didn’t, did I?” he said, looking down at the table in shame. “I could have grabbed my parents and run.”

“Quit crying over spilt pumpkin juice. Believe me, I’m an expert at ‘could have, should have’,” she told him. 

He was silent for a bit, organizing the food she’d purchased by bag size so they lined up on the table like perfectly grouped soldiers. “You’re not from _here_ , are you?” he finally asked, looking up at her. “I thought so yesterday, but now that I see you in the light… A year on the run wouldn’t have aged you this much.”

Her jaw dropped. “Are you calling me old?” she asked, incredulous.

He shook his head. “Not old. Old _er_. It’s your eyes. They’re different.”

“Wiser?”

Her joke fell flat under the seriousness of the moment.

“Cynical,” he said. “Filled with hatred. You’re not the witch I knew.”

They were silent as they considered each other across the table.

“I’m here to stop Umbridge. To do that, I have to save you,” she said, deciding he didn’t really have to know the particulars right this moment. If the time came to tell him more, she would. Until then, he got only what she felt he needed. “The rest…doesn’t matter.”

“Matters to me,” he insisted.

“Why?”

“Because evasions are lies, Granger,” he stated, smirking at her. “And any good Slytherin knows you don’t lie down next to a liar.”

There was an implication in his eyes that said he’d meant that literally.

She sniffed at his arrogance. “Getting ahead of yourself, don’t you think?”

He stepped around the table, to her side. “No,” he said, and brushed his hand against hers where it rested on a paper-wrapped bag of smoked dragon jerky. “We will be using the same bed, since there’s only the one.” Leaning his mouth down to her ear, he whispered, “I don’t fancy having a woman I don’t know slit my throat in my sleep.”

She jerked away from him and set her jaw in anger. “I already told you‒”

“And I don’t believe you,” he stated, his tone as cold as his eyes just then. “You sound like Hermione Granger, seem to have her memories, even look like her, but you’re not _her_.” He closed the distance between them again, backing her into the kitchen counter and using his impressive height to try to intimidate her again. “She was all fire and hope. You…you look like you’re just waiting for the grave.”

“And what about you?” she demanded, attempting to put him on the offense after he’d so spectacularly knocked the world out from under her with that bleak, but honest assessment. “You’re not the Draco Malfoy you were prior to the end of fifth year. There’s something broken in you, too.”

He stared down at her, another bitter smirk aligning his mouth. “Like knows like.”

With that, he stomped off, heading back up the stairs.

With shaking hands, Hermione brushed a lock of messy hair out of her face and clamped down once more upon the memories that threatened to choke her out. So many deaths, so much pain…

But pain could be controlled—you just disconnected from it, until you felt nothing.

She'd done that before, she could do it again, surely.

 

* * *

 

“How long do we hide?” Draco asked her that night, as they sat at the table Hermione had magically repaired from the wreckage of furniture parts found throughout the house.

“Until I can come up with a plan that doesn’t end in your death.”

She blew on the dried fruit and honey porridge she'd made for dinner to cool it down. 

Her companion sullenly played with his food, she noted. “Why don’t you just kill me and take the wand for yourself?” he finally asked, and cast a mocking look her way. “You’d be this Dark Queen, then, wouldn’t you?”

The idea was ludicrous, but since he was hell-bent on provoking her... “I’d considered it,” she admitted, and took a bite, relishing in the sweet flavour of the fruit. She hadn't tasted such goodness in years. “Becoming the wand’s new master has some very positive outcomes for me, actually.”

“You could just disarm me, if you wanted it that badly,” he said, backpedaling at whiplash speed. “It would recognise you as its new owner then, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, but then that would throw off Padma Patil's visions. She once told me that Harry needed to be the Elder Wand's master in the final showdown against You-Know-Who. So, that's the jam: if I took the wand from you, Harry would have to either disarm me or kill me to claim it for his own in order to fulfill his destiny, and the wand makes the killing option a little _too_  tempting, as I told you before." 

"Wait, Patil has visions? Like...a Seer?"

"Mmm, but in truth, I don't really hold to Divination or predestination. I think we make our own fates. Right now, mine is to save you and stop Umbridge—and I intend on doing that, no matter what!"

He scoffed. “So that’s your game.” Standing, he rounded the table to her side to check the potion she'd earlier begun before dinner, as it simmered in its cauldron. With his wand, he poked at the bluebell flames that heated it from below. “You plan to give the wand to Potter to kill the Dark Lord.” 

"I certainly hope it'll find its way into his hands, if he intends to duel that madman, yes. Harry'll need any advantage."

Draco's wand was suddenly at her temple. “Were you going to offer me up like a fatted lamb to your 'Chosen One' after finishing off Umbridge, then?”

She _tsked_ , really irritated with his thick-headedness. “Have you listened to a word I’ve said since this whole thing began? I’m here to save you, you bloody git!” She turned so the wand was now pointed at the centre of her forehead. “However, if you don’t get your wand out of my face, I just may reconsider!”

Malfoy stared at her for a long, silent minute. “There you are,” he whispered, with a slow, sexy smirk. “There's the uptight prig all riled and ready for action. I knew you had it in you, Granger!”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Fuck off.”

Finishing her meal quickly, she washed out her bowl and spoon, set them to dry, then turned back to her bubbling potion. Malfoy was stirring it for her, she noted.

When she came up alongside him, he tossed her a shit-eating grin. 

Nudging him over, she took charge of the potion, and pointed for him to go work on squeezing the juice from the small pile of Baneberries that she'd purchased at Dogweed and Deathcap this morning.

“I like that you swear,” he said, taking up his new assignment without complaint. “It’s naughty.”

“Seriously...fuck off,” she murmured, feeling her cheeks heat. 

His laughter was short-lived, but genuine, and it rang in her ears long after he’d called it quits and went upstairs to the bathroom, to wash up for bed.


	7. Chapter 7

**_“We trade honesty for companionship and in the process never truly know the hearts closest to us.”_ **

**– Sarah Connor, “Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles”**

 

Crabbe had betrayed his friend, that rat bastard. 

And he wasn't as slouchy as they'd all assumed, it seemed.

His ancestral family ring, given to him by his father upon his coming of age this year and signifying his place within the pure-blood Sacred Twenty-Eight, was layered with special spells. His allowed him to shake-off stupefaction and petrification spells in short order. 

Awakening from her Stunning spell before his two roommates thanks to the ring's powers, Crabbe had unlocked his dormitory door and met up with Umbridge in the hallway. Resentful of Draco's treatment of him over the years, he'd turned on his friend and told the bitch what little he’d overheard of Hermione's conversation earlier. In thanks, she'd pinned him with the empty title of Inquisitor's Assistant, and he'd been helping her in her quest to locate the missing Malfoy heir ever since.

Ambitious toad.

She dropped Vincent’s unconscious body onto the ground behind The Three Broomsticks, having gotten all she needed from his dim-witted head with Legilimency. Then, she reached into his head and Obliviated all his memories from the day they’d met in the Slytherin dorms to the present. He might have already squealed to Umbridge, but knowing what she did about him now, Hermione was sure he'd attempt to capture Draco and hand him over to his new boss, if he could. She couldn't allow that to happen.

Making sure she wasn’t seen or followed, she hurried back to the Shrieking Shack and sneaked in through the back door. Malfoy’s wand was at her throat a beat later. When he recognised her, he dropped his guard.

“You're eight minutes late. What happened?”

“Crabbe,” she said, waving her wand at the materials on their make-shift table in the kitchen and assuring they were quickly, but safely stored away inside the small box on the counter. “Ran into him. He tried to use a spell to detain me.”

Her companion snorted in amusement. “I hope you didn’t hurt him too badly.”

“He’d deserve it, if I had. The fink turned on you. He's Umbridge stooge now.”

Draco was floored by that betrayal at first, but his disappointment quickly morphed into anger. “That fucking rotter!” he snarled. “He would have flunked out if not for me! I’m the one who carried him through school!”

Hermione well understood his resentment, but had no time to dwell on such childish notions now. "Go upstairs and stage the room to look as if no one has been here,” she instructed him, feeling that familiar, urgent instinct to flee. “Time to find a new place to live.”

To her surprise, Malfoy didn’t argue with her.

Minutes later, they'd assured the shack looked as dusty and decrepit as they’d found it. Then, transfiguring their faces, hair, and clothing, they’d hurried away, just as dusk was settling over the land. When they were far enough out from the village, Hermione Apparated them away.

 

* * *

 

To her relief, the Black ancestral home at Grimmauld was empty, and it didn’t seem as if the place was being watched from the street, either, as it had been during her last stay here.

“Where are we?” Malfoy asked, glancing down the long hallway as they stood inside the front door. He let out a sigh of relief to find Hermione’s _Hominem Revelio_  spell had detected nothing.

“Sirius Black’s home.” She headed down the hallway and up the stairs to the first floor, keeping her wand at the ready, just in case. “It was a risk coming here, and we probably can’t stay long, but it’s not a bad place to crash for a day or two.”

“Are we going to keep doing this?” he asked a bit sullenly. “Jumping around.”

“You’re being hunted. Get used to it,” she replied.

As she opened the door to the bedroom she and Ginny had once shared, she noted the bed was still neatly made, just as she’d left it the morning she, Harry, and Ron had left for the Ministry. That had been only six months ago in this timeline, but to her, it had been years. The sight of that mattress with its sickle-tight sheets and perfectly placed pillows and its soft, homemade quilt lying undisturbed on top made her chest go tight, as she realised she hadn’t left a bed in this condition since that day, so long ago. Normally, it was a hasty get-away, with tangled, dirty sheets left behind without a backward glance…if she’d slept in a bed at all.

The thought of how much she’d lost, how out of place she was now left her reeling.

Malfoy’s hand on her shoulder, his ancestral ring with the Malfoy family crest on his hand winking at her in the light, steadied her and brought her back from the brink of despair. She blinked away the past and turned to look up at him.

“For safety reasons, I think we should stay in the same room,” she told him, forcing her mind back on task. 

Malfoy was silent in the face of that pronouncement, but then a sly, insinuating smirk worked its way up his cheek. “Admit it Granger, you just want me in a proper bed this time.” He pushed past her and moved to the bed. Sitting on it, he faced her and leaned back on his hands, a devious and cocky glimmer in his eyes and a suggestive tilt to his lips. “The floor of the library was hardly an ideal spot.”

Frowning at his antics, she shook her head. “Your arrogance is astounding.” She rolled her eyes and turned to go back downstairs, this time to head into the kitchen. She needed to do a visual on the rest of the house to assure it was completely safe. “Go take a cold shower or something, will you?”

He laughed at her as she headed down the stairs.

 

* * *

 

Waking from her nightmare with a jolt, Hermione sat up in bed, sweating and shaky, the remnants of her nightmare fading slowly from her mind’s eye.

_Harry had been crucified as the Christ had: nails through his wrists and feet, in a deliberate mockery of his nickname, ‘the Saviour’. Umbridge had stood at the base of the cross, looking up at him with a fiendish, triumphant grin, the Elder Wand in her hand…_

She turned to find Malfoy awake, quietly watching her. 

“Sorry,” she whispered, her jaw aching from the clenching she knew she’d done in her sleep to keep her mouth shut so she wouldn’t cry out. It had been something she’d taught herself to do while on the years on the run. She could do nothing to prevent the bad dreams, but she’d learned not to scream out and give away their position.

“Did you love him?” he asked her.

“Who?”

“Potter. You say his name in your sleep.”

She sighed. “He was a brother to me, never anything more, but Harry…he represented all my hope for the world. When he died...something in me did, too.”

Malfoy’s hand withdrew, leaving behind goosebumps where he’d touched her. “Yesterday, you intimated he was alive. Just now, you spoke of him as if he was dead. Which is it?”

Swallowing the lump of emotion tightening her throat just then, she shook her head. “He’s not dead. Not for you, anyway.”

He quickly puzzled through her words. "But he is for you, which means you really aren't from _here_."

Hermione stood, deciding she wanted a shower to wash away the sweat from her skin. “Forget about it. I’m sorry I woke you.”

Heading into the bathroom, she shut and locked the door behind her, and charmed the shower to supply hot water. There was a cake of soap sitting in the dish, left there by her six months earlier, and recently used by Malfoy. Stripping down, she got under the spray and started washing her body.

As she cleansed her flesh, she let loose her tears. The falling water hid the sounds of her sobbing.


	8. Chapter 8

**_“I know how it feels to have no choices..._**

**_I've just known it longer than you have.”_ **

**– Sarah Connor, “Terminator: Genisys”**

“Why don’t we just meet up with Potter and Weasley?” Draco asked the next day, when they were rummaging around, stealing what they could before they moved on to their next destination. “No one’s caught them all year, wherever they're hiding.”

Hermione shoved the blankets, the pillows, and some dusty, but functional towels from the hall closet into her charmed bag. No one would miss them. “I've considered it, but I don't want to lead the enemy to them. And there are other...issues...with contacting them as well."

Such as meeting her younger self and how that might affect the timeline. The Dark Queen had clearly been able to accomplish contacting the present-day Umbridge without consequence, but could Hermione? Dare she risk it? Involving her younger self wouldn't create a paradox, thanks to the opal ring she was wearing to make her immutable in time, but it might disrupt the horcrux hunt. On the other hand, it would be good to have backup that was competent and powerful enough to help her should things go to hell.

"It's something that I'll have to think on before I decide."

“Loathe that I am to suggest it, let’s go into the Muggle world, then,” he offered.

“We're going to, but only for a day or two."

"Why can't we stay longer?"

She shook her head, adamant. "Muggles can’t defend themselves against that mad woman, and I won’t have any more innocent people’s deaths on my conscience.”

“So, it’s them over me, is it?” he demanded, sneering at her. “I should have known not to trust you.”

He made to leave the room, but Hermione grabbed his arm and halted him. “You listen here, Draco Malfoy! For years, I’ve watched too many people die by that bitch’s hand. The world burned because of her, and everyone I loved died. I will not let _her_  live through that, too! Do you hear me? I will save your sorry arse, so there will be no repeat of that history for Hermione Granger!” 

He stared at her for a long time in silence before speaking again.

“You aren’t from here. I knew it!”

Hermione was floored. Had he just...? He had! The slimy git had set her up! By provoking her, he'd gotten the answers he'd all along wanted about her. 

She sighed, cursing herself for having fallen into his Slytherin tricks so easily. “Come on,” she said, cinching off her bag and unlocking the back door so they could Apparate away. “We’re going.”

“Where, exactly?” he asked.

There was one place she knew Umbridge wouldn’t be able to find so easily, as Hermione had been sure that all records of the place had been expunged from all Ministry and Hogwarts files before she’d Obliviated her parents and sent them away.

There was one place that was safe, for now.

“Home,” she said.

 

* * *

 

Malfoy made no crass or rude comment about the cosy design of Hermione’s childhood home in Surrey, which she’d, frankly, found surprising. Instead, he’d simply looked around, investigating the empty shelves and fireplace mantle, walking the front room, clearly looking for something.

When he found what it, he smirked in triumph. Setting aside the satchel he carried, he crouched down before one of the many moving boxes in the room and opened it. Inside, there were neatly packed photographs in frames. Those, Hermione knew, had once decorated many of the house’s walls and its side tables. Her companion sifted through the frames one at a time, his expression morphing from eager curiosity to one of confusion. “Where are you?” he asked, gazing at each one intently for any sign of her facsimile. “You’re not in any of these Muggle photographs, Granger.”

It took some effort of will not to let his words affect her, and she was proud that her voice didn’t once falter when she calmly replied, “I erased my image from them and moved my parents elsewhere, just in case your Death Eater friends came knocking one dark and stormy night.”

He glanced sharply at her. “They aren’t my friends.”

Too tired to fight, Hermione simply turned and headed for the front door. “The water’s most likely off, so you’ll have to cast _Augumenti_  if you want a drink, to use the toilet, or to take a bath, same as at Grimmauld. Everything else is in here.” She tossed him her charmed bag, and he caught it easily. “I'm going to get us some hot food from the Budgens down the road. I’ll be no more than an hour. If I don’t make it back by then, send your Patronus to Minerva, and–”

She stopped, seeing Malfoy stiffen and look away.

“What?” she asked.

He clamped his lips shut.

“Whatever is it, you need to tell me,” she pushed.

He crossed his arms, taking a belligerent stance.

Her eyes were drawn to his left forearm, and something clicked on in her head. “You can’t summon a Patronus?”

He growled. “Few dark wizards can, Granger.”

“You’re not a dark wizard, Draco.”

He stared at her, looking quarrelsome. Stubborn.

“Whatever. I’ll teach you that spell later," she said. "In the meantime, if I'm not back in one hour, go out the back door to the house directly behind this one. It's empty, as it's a holiday rental. Unlock the door and hide there. No light, no sound. Just be still and quiet. If I don't join you within six hours, I'm probably dead. In that case, find a place to hide that’s far away from here, another continent preferably, and don’t poke your head up until after Harry defeats the Dark Lord.”

As she was pulling the door shut behind her, she heard Malfoy argue, “I’m a Death Eater, Granger. That’s as dark as it gets.”

 

* * *

 

“What’s it like?”

Hermione turned her head to look over her shoulder, but all she could see was a lump under the blankets behind her where Malfoy lay. He’d rolled onto his back a few seconds ago, and she knew he was staring up at the bland, white ceiling in her old room, noting the pin-sized holes where she’d once hung one of her mundane inspirational posters. That poster was long gone now, along with everything else of her childhood. 

...And now, here they were, and he was asking her the one question she’d dreaded answering, knowing that eventually, she’d have to if he was to understand.

“What’s _what_  like?” she asked, feigning ignorance to allow his innocence just one moment longer.

“The future.”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

There it was. The truth that had lain between them since they'd met was out in the open, aired like dirty laundry. 

It wasn’t surprising he’d figured it out this quickly; Malfoy wasn’t some half-wit. He was clever and observant, and entirely too intuitive for a man, in her opinion.

It took her several more minutes before she could find a good place to start.

“It’s a lot like how it is now, under You-Know-Who. The Order’s been all but wiped out, most of us hunted down and made examples of in the most gruesome ways. After three years, people are too terrified to speak out against any of it anymore, much less fight back.”

She tiredly lifted her hand, staring at the sparkling opal ring, letting it remind her that all her pain could easily be ended at any time. All she had to do was turn the stone…

“Pure-bloods rule, then?” he asked.

She dropped her hand back down to her side. “Not like they do now. They’re given the highest positions of power in government, yes, and they teach at Hogwarts as well, but they do so only because they’ve been assigned those placements by _her_ , not because they wanted them. Umbridge’s Ministry isn’t designed for any ego other than the Dark Queen’s to take pleasure in its new order. People are cogs in her machine, and they serve out of fear.”

“And what about…everyone else?” 

“Most half-bloods are the Ministry administrators or the shop owners and workers. If they've got a Muggle or Muggle-born parent, though, they work the furnaces instead.”

“Furnaces?”

She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling above as well, trying not to give in to the feelings welling inside, threatening to punch their way through her chest. “They use them to burn the bodies of the Muggle-borns, the Muggles, and the ‘blood-traitors’ who die in the concentration camps set up all over England.”

Draco rolled towards her and sat up on an elbow. “Muggles? You mean that old bat broke the Statute of Secrecy?”

Hermione barked a bitter laugh. “She didn’t just break it. She exploded it, outing us to the rest of the world. With the Elder Wand at her command, she made sure the Muggle governments were all completely ineffective, frying their electronic weapons and navigation systems with a wave of her wand. When she remote detonated a nuclear bomb in Paris with the wand’s power, the world knew she was serious and sat down to negotiate. Her terms were simple: the U.K. was hers. It was to become an isolated colony under her rule, to do with as she saw fit, without any outside interference or surveillance. If the world refused, she’d do to it what she’d done to Paris, one city at a time.”

“And the Muggles actually fell for that?” He sounded incredulous. “Didn’t they know there’s a limit to magic?”

“Not for the Elder Wand, there isn’t," she told him. "In the hands of its master, it becomes for them whatever they need it to be. It does whatever they command, so long as they have the will to use it. Dolores blacked-out the entire world for a full twenty-four hour period when the Muggles refused her demands.” She turned to face him, an old ache in her hip flaring up as she did so. “You have to understand that everything Muggles do and are, everything that makes their society run—their military protection, their entertainment and communications, their banking and commerce, their travel, their storage of perishable foods and vital medicines, keeping the sick and the injured alive in their hospitals, and their ability to light up the darkness to deter criminal activity—it’s all controlled by electronic signals, and Umbridge cut them off from those signals in a way the Muggles, for all their ingenuity, couldn’t work around. It was global mass hysteria. After that, the Muggle governments acquiesced, knowing Dolores was powerful enough to carry out her threats.”

Draco lay back down, falling against his pillow as if he’d been hit by a Bludger to the chest. “Shit.”

“Fifty-nine million Muggles,” she said, swiping at the hot lash of tears that welled up before her eyes. “Half of them got out before she sealed the borders, but the rest… She let the Dementors have some of them. The rest, she allowed her army of loyalists to use, abuse, and pass around as she wanted. They were the spoils of her war.”

He glanced at her again. “How did you escape?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “After she’d captured and sentenced Harry to die, and then killed most of the Order in a surprise attack, I escaped with Charlie Weasley. He was the only one of their family left by then, and he took me under his wing, taught me to be tough. Back in Romania, he worked with dragons and often camped in the wild, so he knew how to survive, how to find cover and to throw off our scent so we couldn’t easily be tracked. We went into hiding, every day either trying to find a way to get around the wards Umbridge had set about the whole island or trying to save others who were trapped in here with us, to teach them how to hide, too.”

Draco turned her head and stared at her. “Always the hero, Granger.”

She met his gaze, feeling oddly empty deep inside. “Hardly. We were trapped and did what we had to so we survived. That’s not heroic, that’s pragmatism. We had only two rules: one, you stayed down by day, but at night, you could move around, and two, if you were caught, you turned your wand on yourself and cast Fiendfyre, nothing less. With the Elder Wand, Umbridge could easily rape the mind and steal all its secrets, and she could always bring you back as Inferi if she was feeling particularly vindictive.” She fondled Pansy’s necklace around her throat. She'd put it on just that morning to remind her of what she was fighting for again. “It’s what she did to Zabini for attempting to run. It’s why Pansy hated her so much.” 

He sat upright, shocked and appalled. “That bitch turned people into fucking _zombies_?”

“Zabini, Lupin, Bellatrix, and others. She'd made an example of them, turning them into her personal undead servants. I think that’s what terrified most people into submission, really.”

She was quiet for a long time after that, her thoughts turned inwards. Draco said nothing, merely watched her.

In the silvery light coming from the window nearby, she noted the angles of his face were sharp and his skin as pale as bone. His platinum hair seemed made of star-spun thread, incandescent strands that beckoned to be touched. She remembered how soft that hair had been as she’d once slid her fingers through it…

Draco shifted, turning on his side to face her. The bed creaked as he resettled his weight into the mattress. The quilt suddenly felt too hot against her skin as she met the winter of his eyes.

“What's it like, going through time?” he asked, whispering.

“White light. Pain,” she replied, knowing her words were wholly inadequate to convey the sensation. “It's like being born, I suppose.”

He reached out and traced her cheek with his fingertips. “I wish things had been different. In this time, I mean. Between us. I wish, I hadn't been your enemy. I wish I'd been brave enough to have you more than the one time. I wish...”

“I know,” she said, leaning forward and pressing her lips to his to silence him and the echoing desire within her chest. “Me, too.”

He took her in his arms and she gave into it, melting into his embrace.

Draco made love to her that night, and it was nothing like their first time in the library. It was slow, devastating to her senses, and he was tender in a way he could not be in the light of day. What they did was about reassurance, reconnection, two people coming together to banish the darkness for a little while, and when it was done, he held her to him, brushing his hand across her breast as he slept.

She did not turn away from him as she had years before, and so he did not turn away from her. 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**_"The future, always so clear to me, has become like a black highway at night._** **_”_ **

**– Sarah Connor, “Terminator 2: Judgment Day”**

 

“You’re doing really well,” Hermione encouraged Draco, noting the wispy ball of silver expanding at the tip of his Hawthorn wand. “That’s more than most can do on their second try.”

Malfoy let the magic go and slumped down onto the nearby couch. He breathed hard and wiped the sweat from his brow. “It’s…more difficult than I’d thought." 

“A Patronus is advanced magic,” she told him. “Not even You-Know-Who can do it—and not just because he’s a dark wizard. Happy memories fuel it.” She made a face, thinking about what would possibly make Voldemort joyful. “I doubt that man has ever had a genuinely good thought in his entire life.”

Her companion laughed. “You could say that about most of us.”

She took a seat at his side on the sofa. “You aren’t like them,” she insisted, and touched his left forearm, where his Dark Mark hid beneath his jumper’s sleeve. “This wasn’t taken out of a desire for personal power. That distinction is…it’s everything.”

He glanced down at where her hand lingered on him. “I’ve stood by while people were murdered and did nothing, Granger. That makes me dark.”

“Sometimes staying still and silent is the right thing to do,” she told him. “Over the last three years, I’ve had to learn that lesson the hard way.” She took his hand in hers and linked their fingers. “Picking your battles doesn’t mean you’re a coward, Draco. It means you’re wise.”

“Wisdom is Ravenclaw’s trait. In case you’ve forgotten, Granger, I’m Slytherin.” He cringed and looked away from her. “We’re poisonous.”

When he would withdraw his hand from hers, she stubbornly refused to let go. “Being Slytherin doesn’t mean you don’t act.” She cupped his jaw and turned him towards her, forcing him to look her in the eye again. “It means you act during the right moment.”

He was silent for a bit, thinking on that.

“How can you believe in me so much? I put you through hell for years, set-up Dumbledore to die. I’m shite, Granger.” He thumped his chest, over his heart. “There’s nothing here of value.”

Leaning forward, she kissed him.

“The fact that you could summon a Patronus after only two tries tells me otherwise.”

 

* * *

 

“I need to find the rest of my coven,” Hermione told him later, as they ate dinner together in the kitchen. “If they’re still alive, I’ll need their help to stop Umbridge.”

“You’re leaving me again?” Malfoy asked her, clearly worried.

“I have to. I left them back at the castle. They were going to hide out in the Room of Requirement and wait for me, if they made it that far.”

Malfoy threw down his fork. “What if you’re caught?”

She sighed, wiping her mouth with her napkin. “You defect to the Order.” She reached out and took his hands, forcing him to face her, despite his surliness. “They’re at Shell Cottage on the outskirts of Tinworth, on the beach. Find them and convince them of the need for sanctuary. Do whatever it takes to earn their protection. Only confide in the Hermione of this time period about your connection to the Elder Wand, if pressed. Do not, under any circumstances, mention it to anyone else.”

He seemed to grapple with his anger over her decision.

“What if…you die?” he asked in a very small voice.

Reaching up on tiptoes, she pressed her body along the length of his and kissed him. “Just stay here. If I don’t return by dawn, make for Shell Cottage.”

He refused to look her in the eye, and his pronounced frown told her he didn’t like this plan one bit.

Tilting his chin up, she forced him to see her, however. “I’ll find you, no matter what.”

Staring at her for a few moments in silence, he finally asked, “You promise?”

“I promise,” she vowed, giving him a small smile. “I came across time for you, Draco. Maybe it was primarily to stop Umbridge, but it was also to save you.”

Running his fingers through her hair, he pushed some stray strands off her cheek. “I think…you already have.”

They finished dinner in relative silence after that, and when it was finally time for her to go, Draco took Hermione into his arms and held her tightly to him. “If you’re hurt…”

“The other Hermione will take care of you," she insisted. "When you get to Shell Cottage, send her your Patronus, ask her for help. She'll come. She won't trust you at first, but she'll come.”

He huffed cynically. “That one…she has a mean streak a mile wide. And awful hair,” he said, running his fingers through Hermione’s short, shaggy bob, which had been cut and layered by Pansy a week earlier, when she’d gotten tired of her long, woolly hair and its god-awful weight. “I like you better.”

Leaning forward, taking this opportunity to partake of the warmth from a male body—a sensation that she’d been too long denied—Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek against his chest, listening to his heart beat steadily. It was comforting, and she closed her eyes for a minute, wishing this moment could last forever. "You like her just fine," she murmured. "At least, you did in the Restricted Section that one night."

He huffed again, but did not deny it, she noticed.

With a sigh, she forced herself to step away, releasing him and the luxury he represented, returning to hated, harsh reality. “Stay here,” she reiterated, a little more firmly this time. “I’ll be back by dawn, hopefully.”

Hermione walked out without looking back, a feat this time that proved somewhat difficult for her. She crossed the wards she’d put up around her parent’s home and Apparated away to the forest just beyond Hogsmeade. From there, she waited until the dawn nullified the Caterwauling Charm around the village and then hoofed it back to the Shrieking Shack in disguise...where, to her surprise, her surviving friends were already waiting for her.

 

* * *

 

“We came up with a plan,” Hermione blurted, needing to banish the awkward silence between her and Draco that had cropped up since she’d returned to her childhood home earlier. “A way to end this once and for all, so you’ll be safe.”

He paused in washing her back, going suddenly still behind her in the tub. “You’re going to stand and fight, aren’t you?” he asked. When she nodded, he snarled and threw the wash rag against the rim. It hit with a wet ‘splat’ and then sank under the soapy water. “Fucking Gryffindors! You said no one could stand up to her and that sodding wand! You’re going to be killed!”

Wearily, Hermione climbed to her feet and reached for her towel. She used it to pat herself dry, and then stepped out with it wrapped around her torso. “I’m not afraid of death, Draco, not anymore. Besides, I don’t belong here. I can’t stay. My only task was to change the timeline. If I can somehow kill the Umbridge of the past, that’ll take care of the Dark Queen forever. She’ll disappear, and then I will, too, and you can go back–”

“To what? To that school? To _him_? To being without you?” He thrust his hands into his hair and tugged on it in exasperation, leaning back so his head bumped the edge of the tub. “I can’t do this anymore, Granger! Don’t you understand?” Seeing her leaving the room, he got up, dripping water, agitated and quaking from head-to-toe. Reaching for the last remaining towel, he used it to dry himself off, too. “I never wanted any of this! I only became involved to save my parents!” He stepped out of the tub and sullenly snapped, “I didn't intend to become the master of some fucking wand of power! I didn’t ask for this honour, and I don't want it,  _any of it!_ ”

“And I didn’t ask to have my world burned to the ground and everyone I’d loved horribly murdered!” she shouted back.

He dropped his towel and crossed to her, yanking her into his arms. His expression was as agonized as his voice when he confessed, “How can you ask me to let you go again when I just got you back?”

Hermione stared up at him in astonishment. This was something she hadn’t known. She’d assumed that this thing between them was merely physical for him, but the way he talked… “Are you saying you love me?” she asked him. When he didn’t reply, she had her answer. “Was that why you provoked me in the library that night, years ago? Why didn’t you say anything afterwards?”

He growled. “Just…shut up, Granger.”

Dropping his head, his mouth claimed hers in a rough, possessive kiss. When she softened under him, the kiss morphed along with it, becoming something passionate, yet sweet. She tangled her fingers in his short hair, and pressed her body to his, reveling in the feel of his warmth. The evidence of his need pressed against her thigh and made her wet with want.

It was strange that in the middle of a war, in a time she didn’t belong, with a young man who had once been her enemy, that she would finally be able to open her heart once more.

That enlightenment only solidified her resolve to save Draco. Perhaps, if she did, the Hermione of this timeline might have an opportunity to someday explore this same relationship with Draco, but in a better setting and with a more hopeful conclusion.

He pulled away and pressed his forehead to hers. “I want you. All of you.”

Hermione nodded in agreement. The ache in her chest for the coming tomorrow was alleviated by the knowledge that she’d get to have this a little while longer, at least for tonight.

His fingers twined in her short hair, grabbing hold and with a bit of pressure, he tilted her head up and took her kiss with a barely-restrained hunger, rocking his erection against her at the same time. For her part, Hermione was equally as desirous and took hold of Draco with greedy, grasping hands. Her tongue penetrated his mouth and her nails pressed into his shoulders. They kissed as if it was the last time.

It would be, she knew.

“Draco, I need you,” she gasped, as his mouth travelled the length of her jaw and down her throat.

He let up, pressing his mouth to her ear. “You have me, Granger. You always have.”

With that, he picked her up and carried her to the bedroom and laid her down on the soft mattress of her childhood days, joining their bodies with ease. Their coupling was passionate, honest, slow and devastating. 

Illuminated by the moonlight coming in through the sole window in the room, for the first time, Hermione could see the scars upon his torso left by Harry’s reckless spell last year, and some new ones as well that were still pink from healing. She reached for him, sliding her hands over his wounds, touching his Dark Mark, wanting to know every inch of this man she’d come across time to save.

“I’m going to remember you this way,” he told her, driving in and out of her body in a measured beat that matched her heart’s pace. “God knows how or why, but you love me, Hermione. I feel it, and I’m never going to forget that or you.” He placed a reverent kiss upon the inside of her wrist. “Never.”

She wept for them both, for their doomed feelings, even as her body closed in on that overwhelming elation that would free her for a few seconds from her sorrow. Sensing that moment approaching, Draco took her harder, faster, his expression one of agony while he chased their ecstasy. Hermione arched her back to take him as deep as she could, and her body finally surrendered. She cried out as white light took her up and away once more, only this time there was no pain, only deliverance.

His triumph mirrored hers a moment behind as he released his seed with her name on his lips.

When it was over, he slumped forward to rest his forehead against her throat, shaking from head to toe, the same as her. Hermione held her lover close, entwining their sweaty, sated bodies and keeping him inside her as he fell into a light doze almost immediately. Tracing slow circles and nonsense patterns across his shoulders and the back of his neck, and calming her breathing to match his, soon she lulled him into an even deeper sleep.

 

She stayed wrapped up in Draco's warmth for a while longer, clinging to the promise of forever he offered. Then, she gently moved out from under him, rolling him onto his back and tucking the blankets up around him. He stirred, but quickly fell back into the quiet darkness. Gathering her things, she dressed quickly and quietly, and then stopped a moment longer to gaze upon his body bathing in the silvery light from the window.

Draco was a sharp, pointy, scarred young man, made pretentious as a child by elitist and racist lies, and now hounded into adulthood by disillusionment. But now she knew he was capable of becoming something more than his family and his bad decisions. He'd proven her faith in him had been well-placed.

...And maybe as he'd done it once, he would do it again someday, on his own. Maybe he'd choose a better path to walk, taking his fate into his own hands at long last. Maybe then it would be right for him and Hermione Granger to really be together.

“Goodbye,” she whispered, and pointed her wand at him.

Obliviation was a horrible spell, and she hated using it. It was safer, however, for him and for her younger self, and so she cast it, erasing his memories of her interference in the course of his life. 

When it was done, she hit him with a Sleeping Charm to keep him unconscious and hurriedly dressed. 

“You can come out now."

Her younger-self rounded the doorway, looking quite astonished by what she'd no doubt heard while waiting downstairs for them.

"You remember the story you're to tell him?" she asked present-Hermione.

Her partner nodded. "Umbridge was sent to kill him on Voldemort's orders, to make an example of him. He defected. Snape helped him escape through the Floo in the Headmaster's office, but he splinched as he came through to Shell Cottage and lost his memories." She bit her bottom lip, staring at the slumbering heir of Malfoy with weary curiosity. "He...he really loves you, doesn't he? It seems so...strange."

Hermione smiled. "He can cast a Patronus, you know. No form, but it's something." She turned to look at the younger girl, who was malnourished and exhausted from the pressure of this year's horcrux hunt and Death Eater dodge. "Will you at least think on it, on him?"

The other 'her' was silent in contemplation. Hermione knew it was because the girl was weighing what she remembered of Draco from before and what she'd just learned about him over the last hour against her feelings for Ron. Which would ultimately come out the winner of that contest, she wondered.

Turning back, she used magic to redress Draco while he slept and then levitated him over to them. "How long are Harry and Ron going to be unconscious?"

She checked the watch on her wrist; it was an exact duplicate of the one Hermione wore, of course. "Six hours, twenty-three minutes. I really don't like being gone from the camp this long. It's dangerous."

"You're in a good spot right now," Hermione reminded her, recalling where they'd been hidden during this time in her past. "The wards are strong. The boys are down for the count, enjoying a dreamless sleep thanks to the potion I gave you, and so they can't cause mischief to draw attention. They'll be fine."

"We should go, in any case. The sooner I get it done, the sooner I can return to the camp."

Hermione nodded. 

"What about the others?" present-Hermione asked as an afterthought. "You said you'd Obliviated Crabbe's mind, but what about Nott and Goyle? You said they were there in the dormitory, too. They know about you. What if they tell Draco?"

Hermione shrugged. "Tell the Order to keep a tight leash on him and not to let him loose until Harry wins. That'll prevent him from running into the two of them until later. Hopefully, Umbridge will be dealt with tomorrow, so you won't have to worry about her ever again." 

"And me? I know what you've told me: that Dumbledore's wand is powerful and could be used to finish You-Know-Who. I don't know _why_ it's so special, but I'm sure I could find out. You know I could."

"Yes, you're much too curious for your own good," Hermione admitted with a sly grin. She reached into her bag and withdrew the potion she and Draco had made with Baneberries: a Forgetfulness potion. "This will help with that."

Of course, her younger-self recognised the potion's neon purple glow instantly and knew what it was and what it would do to her.

"Simply think of Dumbledore's wand of power while you're drinking it," Hermione instructed her. "The potion will take all references to it from your mind."

"And...you and Draco?" her younger-self asked, reaching for and taking the potion from Hermione's hand.

Closing her eyes, Hermione suddenly felt the weight of all her life’s hard, painful decisions pressing down upon her. This was one of the hardest.

“If people make their own fates, then a person’s life is up to their choices," she told the other Hermione. "They decide the direction of their hearts, the location of their bodies, and the dedication in their souls." She smiled at her more innocent twin. "Neither of you need my ghost prodding you along at every step, influencing you. If you want to find each other again, you will." 

"You want me to forget what I heard, what I know about you two," the girl stated, understanding.

She hugged the younger Hermione then. “Free will is about exercising one’s desires and dreams without interference, isn't it?" she asked, speaking rhetorically. "Besides, he doesn’t need me anymore. I think I actually succeeded in doing what I set out to do. I think I've saved him.”

–Because no dark wizard could ever cast a Patronus, and his had been a ball of light...and that distinction was, as she’d said, everything.


	10. Chapter 10

**_“_ ** **_She is here to steal his future. She is a nightmare._**

**_A demon woman._ **

**_She is a bad dream. She is a bad bitch.”_ **

**– Sarah Connor, “Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles”**

 

Two hours later, Hermione met the remaining members of her coven in a side alley on Whitehall, near the underground toilets that had become the only magical way into the Ministry under Voldemort’s regime. In her bag, she carried the three gold tokens that had once belonged to Reginald Cattermole, Mafalda Hopkirk, and Albert Runcorn, compliments of her past-self.

Hidden in the shadows, she, Luna, Astoria, and Padma waited for a late-working Ministry employee to exit, so they could jump him for his gold coin, which was the sole way to gain admittance through the toilet entrance. Four coins, four flushes.

“I think I prefer short hair,” Luna absently said, running her fingers through the haircut Hermione had given her earlier that day once the plan had been decided upon. The style exactly matched Draco’s current fashion, so from behind, they looked almost identical. “It’s lighter, and Nargles can’t nest in it.”

Hermione fought a smile, while keeping an eye on the entrance to the Ministry, looking for a target to present itself. “You’ve got the exact right colouring and slender figure to pass as Draco if no one looks too closely. Just keep your back to the main door, so they can’t see your face.”

“She’s shorter than Malfoy,” Astoria pointed out, sounding grim. 

Hermione shrugged. “Hopefully, both Umbridges will be too caught up in their ‘triumph’ to notice.”

The plan was simple, sort-of: they’d stolen the Elder Wand from Dumbledore’s tomb, and were returning to the Ministry to lure both Umbridges down into the Death Chamber. The Dark Queen would know it was the real wand the moment she laid eyes upon it, as she’d feel it calling to her, its future mistress. She would see the wand in 'Draco’s' hand, encourage her past self to take it up, and Hermione and her friends would jump out from their hiding spots and finish things where they had all began. Full circle.

“There,” Padma said, pointing to a young woman emerging from the underground ladies toilet. She were heading to the safe Disapparition point between two buildings to go home. 

Hermione and her friends moved quickly, knocking out the witch with a non-verbal _Stupefy_  the moment they were all far enough into the passage that no one would notice. Hermione then stole the woman’s golden token from her robes. Then, they hurried back out onto the street and headed for the underground bathroom.

The rush traffic to leave at the end of regular working hours was long over, and the scant number of those on swing shift were already secured away in their offices to attend to their assignments, so there were no stragglers to be found in the Ministry lobby to harass them as they entered through the Floo. From there, it was a quick lift ride down to Level Nine.

As they entered the Death Chamber once again, they all paused to stare at the Dark Archway. Hermione felt a shiver walk up her spine at the view.

“I hate that thing,” Astoria admitted, somber and resigned.

“It was created merely to serve,” Luna replied.

Astoria wrinkled her nose up. “Yeah, well, it’s doesn’t have to do that so…creepily.”

“Everyone knows their parts, right?” Hermione asked, heading down into the chamber. “We lure the Dark Queen and her pink twin in here, Luna drops the wand in front of the portal, and one of us pushes the Dark Queen in while the others take care of present-Umbridge. Kill her if you want. I don’t care.”

The coven made noises of agreement, and then everyone picked a spot that seemed best to them to accomplish their goals. When they were set, Hermione summoned her Patronus. To her momentary surprise, it took the form of a glowing, white ball instead of its previous form.

She sighed. “Figures.”

Giving the matter of her feelings for Draco no more thought, she sent the floating, wispy light out with a challenge to the Dark Queen: 

_“You want the Elder Wand? I’ve got it. Death Chamber. Come and get me, bitch.”_

They waited for what seemed an eternity for a response, hunched and hidden, except for Luna who stood before the Dark Archway and stared into the face of it without fear. In her hand she held the Elder Wand, but it seemed to hold no more interest to her than her transfigured clothing or her shorter hair.

The plan really wasn’t a bad one, if they could actually pull it off, because it wouldn’t matter how powerful the Dark Queen was once she was pushed through the Archway’s tattered curtain. There simply would be no escape for her in there, not ever. She’d be like Sirius had become, stuck in a shadowy dimension between the Veil and this world, unable to pass either way, unable to use magic. A lost soul trapped forever in purgatory. There was a certain poetic justice that her reign would end in death and darkness, since she’d brought so much of it to the rest of the world.

“Where is she?” Astoria asked from her hiding space to the left of the door.

“She’ll be here,” Hermione replied. “Maybe she just needs a little more incentive?”

She summoned another Patronus and had it magically record her next taunt: 

_“Some Dark Queen you are, Dolores. Afraid of a woman half your age, who’s bested you once already. Did you enjoy the Centaur’s whips that time, by the way? I bet you did.”_

Astoria laughed as the Patronus flew past her and through the wall, seeking its destination. “You are a mean witch when you want to be, you know?”

Hermione smirked. “Let’s just see if she takes the bait or not.”

The Queen did, of course, her ego too large to let that last gibe pass.

A cat Patronus ran through the door and down to where Hermione hid behind the arch. How the Dark Queen was able to summon a Patronus at all surprised her the first time she’d seen it, but now she understood that the woman wasn’t really summoning it based upon a good kind of happy, but a happiness derived from causing pain to others. Sadistic scrum.

_“I’ll enjoy stripping the flesh from your bones, and then resurrecting you once you die, Miss Granger.”_

The cat disappeared, the echo of Umbridge’s deranged laugh fading out behind it.

“I think she means it,” Luna said from her position before the Archway.

Hermione chuckled, wholly unafraid. “I think you're right."

Just as she'd finished speaking, the door to the Death Chamber was blown inward and off its hinges.

“Circe's tits!” Astoria said while coughing and clearing the air with a waving hand, keeping her wand trained on the door.

Past-Umbridge came through first and she had a Shield spell up and in place.

That couldn’t save her from the Black Ice spell Astoria had earlier cast upon the floor, however. The witch’s feet slid out from underneath her as she stepped forward, and with a scream, she went down with a hard crack, hitting the back of her head on the ancient stone with tremendous force. Due to the slippery nature of the floor, she continued forward, helplessly gliding off the edge. A big, pink blur tumbled down the thirteen steps to their bottom, and there it lay, sprawled out and undignified, breathing but unconscious.

One down.

The Dark Queen did not enter the room after witnessing that catastrophe, though. Instead, she stood in the doorway with a devil’s smile and not an ounce of alarm or sympathy in her expression. Indeed, she seemed not to care a whit about what had just happened, which was the really strange part, because Hermione thought the older woman _should_  very much care about present-day Dolores’ safety. After all, everything that happened to her in the past would affect her in the future.

‒Unless she’d used the Elder Wand to make herself stuck in time as well, in which case, she wouldn’t need her past-self at all, because time and the effects of her past would no longer affect her.

Consequently, she wouldn’t need the Elder Wand in Luna’s hand, either, because she had one of her own.

Shit. 

Hermione realised in an instant how badly she'd misjudged the Queen’s ruthlessness. Apparently, the woman had decided sometime between time-travelling into the past and now to sacrifice all other pieces on the board to keep herself in play, and she’d figured out a way to do that without hurting her position. 

If she destroyed the wand in Luna’s hand, no one would ever be able to stop her...

Springing into action, Hermione slammed into Luna and shoved them both off of the dais and onto the floor a second before a bright green light struck the spot her friend had, just a moment before, occupied.

From her left, Padma released a round of curses and hexes in counter, and from somewhere else in the room, she heard Astoria do the same. They kept the Queen busy while Hermione and Luna could get to safety. Not that there was much in the way of that in a rectangular room with stairs, a pit, and little else. They’d have to hide behind the arch. That was their only shot at surviving this.

She pulled Luna to her feet and ducking, the two made for the safety of the Archway. There, they met up with Padma, and few seconds later, Astoria. The four witches huddled against the backside of the bowed stone, two on each side, catching their breath.

“What. A. Cunt,” Astoria snarled, bleeding badly from her left leg. "She hit me with some spell. It reopened my wound."

Hermione tossed a curse over her shoulder blindly, hoping to keep the Queen distracted, while she considered what to do now.

Right, so the plan hadn’t really hadn’t changed; Dolores was still after the wand. This time, though, she didn’t want it for keeps, but to break it. She needed to be touching it to do that, though, as the Elder Wand would not allow itself to be destroyed by mere spells, so nothing had altered that part of the plan. They could still lure Umbridge towards the Archway, if they did things right...

“Such a shame,” the Dark Queen tutted from the top of the stairs, mocking in her disapproval. She hadn’t moved at all during the exchange, which implied her shield spells had easily deflected everything Padma and Astoria had thrown her way, including the Killing Curse. “All these years later, and you’ve still learned none of the lessons I’d hoped to instill in you, Miss Granger.”

“Such as?” she called out, silently signalling with hand gestures for Luna to give her the Elder Wand. Her friend handed it over without argument, and took her own wand out to do battle instead. “What could you ever have to say that would be worth listening to, you pink freak?”

A strong Blasting spell slammed into the Archway, but the thing had been built by ancient wizards of a material no one could really name, according to Luna, and so it was unharmed by the attack. 

The room, however, had been built sometime after the Ministry, when the Department of Mysteries had been founded. It wasn’t used to such violence, and shuddered and quaked in the aftershock of such powerful magic.

“You're going to bring the roof down on us all if you keep that up. I doubt even you’d survive nine stories of rock coming down on top of you, Dolores,” Hermione called out. “You sure you want to risk it?”

The Dark Queen was eerily silent.

Hermione risked a glance around the arch from a position lower than her head would usually sit.

“Where is she?” Astoria asked, risking her own look. “I don’t see her.”

“ _Homenum Revelio_ ,” Padma whispered, sending the magic throughout the room.

Umbridge appeared right next to her.

Astoria screamed and shoved Padma out of the way right as Umbridge cast a Slicing Hex. The result was Astoria’s left arm was severed below the elbow. She lost her wand, as that had been her dominant hand. The girl screamed and went down in a fountain of blood.

Hermione’s fury flared to life within her chest. With the Elder Wand in her hand whispering to her over and over again in her head— _"KILL. KILL. KILL.”_ —its hissed cadence perfectly matching the pounding blood through her body, she was tempted to use it to do exactly that. By the barest thread, she was able to resist and instead pointed her Vinewood wand at Dolores. While the woman was distracted, getting ready to cast the Killing Curse on Astoria and Padma, Hermione hit her with a powerful, sustaining Knock-Back jinx. The Dark Queen screamed as she was bodily shoved out from behind the arch, and then as the spell kept pushing her along as Hermione quickly advanced, giving her opponent no chance to counter the spell and forcing her around to the front of the Dark Archway.

She marched upon the woman who had tormented her for far too many years, hand shaking and so angry that all she could see was red and all she could taste was blood. 

“For everyone we ever loved, for the world you destroyed,” she snarled with tears in her eyes and hate in her mouth. “This is for them.”

She pushed, forcing Dolores back until the black, tattered curtain billowed around the woman’s head.

An _Impedimenta_  struck her from behind with such force then that Hermione was staggered to her knees and her concentration broke. Her spell was released as she fell forward, gasping for breath, and then she was hit again and the strength left her, and she was brought low, her cheek hitting the floor with enough pressure that it felt as if it had fractured.

“Did you really think I’d let either of you have it?” present-Umbridge growled from her half-raised position on the ground, where she’d fallen. There was blood on her face and neck from where she’d cracked open her skull, but there was enough vindictive pleasure in her eyes to prove that she quite capable of casting any of the Unforgivables. She proved it a moment later when she’d hit her future-self with a _Crucio_ , forcing the Dark Queen to her knees. “The Elder Wand is MINE!” present-Umbridge screamed, her voice cracking with insanity.

Struggling, the Dark Queen raised her arm and banished the _Crucio_  upon her with her Elder Wand. She huffed for breath, however, as if the effort had been extremely difficult, and sweat poured from her forehead into her gleaming, red eyes as she zeroed in on her past self.

“No, it’s mine!” she growled, forcing her unsteady legs under her and rising once more. “Mine forever!”

She made a slashing motion through the air and there was a dull roar of thunder, and then present-Umbridge was covering her eyes and screaming. Smoke poured out from between her fingers as she dropped her wand and covered her face.

With spots before her eyes, Hermione fought to get up, refusing to die on her knees. The strength just wasn’t there, and so the best she could do was lay, collapsed and broken at the Dark Queen’s feet…a place she’d swore she’d never be. 

The Dark Queen looked down at her with triumph. “I told you once, Miss Granger: I _will_ have order.” She made that ridiculous giggle sound in the back of her throat and held the Elder Wand pointed at Hermione’s head. “I’m going to kill you now, and then you’ll make me a fine Inferi servant.”

Luna was suddenly next to her, stepping out from behind a Disillusionment Charm. “Pardon me, but Death wants its wand back now,” she said, and with a leap, shoved Umbridge through the Dark Archway. Luna tumbled in after her, her hand gripping the Elder Wand in Dolores’ hand to keep the other woman from casting her final curse.

The two witches disappeared into the darkness forever as Death's hollow mouth swallowed them whole.

 

Just like that, it was suddenly, startling, _miraculously_ over.

 

Hermione lay there, stunned, unable to wrap her head around what had just happened. They’d actual destroyed the Dark Queen. A million-to-one odds against, and they’d done it.

As she lay there before the Dark Archway, staring into its abyss, she looked for any flashes of pink or platinum blonde, but didn’t find any. There was only an eternity of twinkling stars and a chorus of silken whispers speaking just one word:

_"Luna.”_

She cried then as she never had before, the relief tinged with a grief that was as vast as the Veil.

They’d won.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**_“The cruel reality of war is that there is no return home, no return to innocence._ **

**_What is lost is lost forever.”_ **

**– Sarah Connor, “Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles”**

 

The warm tingling of a healing spell woke her sometime later.

Hermione rolled onto her back to find Padma leaning over her. “It’s not done yet,” her friend explained. “There are two more things to account for.”

With a deep sigh, Hermione forced her elbows under her and then sat up. The room spun once before righting itself. “I know,” she grumbled. “The Elder Wand.”

“And Dolores Umbridge.”

Glancing around, Hermione didn’t see their youngest friend anywhere. “Astoria?”

Padma’s lips thinned into a sad, straight line. “I healed her the best I could, but that Slicing Hex… She’s bleeding to death.”

Tears pricked the back of Hermione’s eyes again. She crawled to her feet and headed over to her dying friend. At least Astoria wouldn’t have to be alone at the end. Hermione would hold her, as she’d held Pansy.

Greengrass was breathing hard, the blood a slow, but steady stream. Hermione could feel the magical plaster attempting to hold back the tide of loss, but saw clearly where it failed, and that it could not be fixed.

Sitting at Astoria’s side, Hermione took her friend’s hand. “I’m here,” she said, giving the girl's limp fingers a squeeze.

Pale, clearly in pain, Astoria’s lashes fluttered as her eyes opened. “Not done yet. Help me up so I can help Padma.”

“What?”

Padma was there beside them, her white and orange saree stained with dirt and blood. “We’re going to turn the arch again,” she explained. “Dolores Umbridge must be held accountable for her sins.”

“How is time travel going to do that?” Hermione asked, confused.

The Seer shook her head, her long, straight hair sliding over her shoulder with the motion. “Ansuz. Communication with the divine, remember? I would have her stand before the gates of heaven and face judgement.”

Hermione frowned. “I don’t mean to offend, but surely that’s…not possible.”

Padma stared at her with those strange, glacial-white eyes, composed and seemingly self-assured when she replied, “We shall see.” Taking Astoria’s good arm, she braced herself under it. “Will you help?” 

It was then that Hermione understood what they’d discussed when she’d been unconscious. “You’re going to let Astoria pay the price? No, that’s…Padma, that’s cruel! You saw what it did to Lavender. Why cause her more pain?”

“I want to do this,” Astoria told her, grimacing as she adjusted her legs so she was kneeling, but leaning heavily on Padma. “Look, I know you’re not down with the whole 'god thing', and I’m not really sure I am either, but just…help us, will you, Hermione?”

“You don’t have anything more to prove, Astoria,” she insisted and wiped fiercely at the tears streaming down her cheeks, angry with Padma for using Greengrass’ imminent death as a means for her to see if her theories on the gods was right. “Why would you do this?”

Greengrass' body starting trembling from the massive blood loss and her chest heaved for breath. She was close to the end now. "Because I want to die as Cho did: on my feet, fighting for what's right. A hero. For her.”

And that’s all it took to understand, for Hermione felt much the same way about Draco.

Careful of Astoria’s stump, she helped the girl get to her feet, supporting her friend opposite Padma. The two got Astoria into position. “I’ll help you push,” Hermione offered, holding the younger girl against her side as they leaned on the arch. “Padma, you take care of Umbridge.”

The Rshikä did, crossing over to the sobbing Umbridge, who continued to touch the burned out sockets of her eyes, mumbling to herself about how she was so close, how she’d almost won. Roughly grabbing the other woman and hauling her to her feet, Padma dragged Umbridge to stand before the arch.

“Turn it,” she told them, and Astoria set her knees and her good shoulder to the task. Hermione reached over her friend, placing her hands on the cold stone, and shoved for all she was worth.

It tingled, then ached, and then it _really_ started to hurt. The magic of the arch burned and sliced her up until her bones felt like glass and her heart pounded too hard to count its frantic beats. Under her, Astoria groaned in pain and then howled in defiance, but Hermione had shut her eyes with the effort of turning the arch, until she felt it snap into place and the magic released her. 

She fell back onto her arse then, and looked down at her hands. They appeared at least four decades older, with liver spots covering them and the skin so thin, it was like paper. She wondered what her face and hair looked like as she got to arthritic knees and slowly, painfully climbed to her feet.

At the foot of the arch, Astoria was a withered, skeletal husk, her body fallen and curled in on itself in death. Her lips, however, were tilted upwards in a smile. Hermione knew from having read somewhere once before that such a thing was often the result of muscles pulling into place post-mortem, but Hermione wanted to think it was Astoria’s last expression—that of a woman fulfilled.

Around the other side of the arch, a brilliant blue light shone, and Padma’s voice could be heard speaking to someone. At first, Hermione thought it was Umbridge, but when she limped around to see, she noted Padma’s white eyes were staring straight ahead into the portal and she seemed to be conversing with someone on the other side of it. Hermione could not look into the light to see who it might be, however, as it burned her retinas to do so.

When Padma thrust the trembling Dolores Umbridge before her, the woman started screaming, although it seemed her body was frozen in place by some magic unknown.

“Judgement is upon you,” Padma said, her voice ringing out in the vast chamber, “ _Om Sri Maha Kalikayai Namaha._ ”

The blue light expanded, glowing brighter, and the room began to shake. Umbridge’s screaming was raw, screeching and animalistic now. Padma’s chanting grew in crescendo, until the last syllable was sung on a long note that seemed to go on forever.

Hermione covered her ears with her hands and turned her face away, as the sounds and lights blurred and burned her.

A heartbeat later, there was blessed, unexpected quiet, and Dolores Umbridge and Padma Patil were gone. No bodies, just…gone. When Hermione quickly glanced to where Astoria’s body had lain, there was nothing there, either.

The Dark Archway moved on its own, clicking back into place, becoming the face of Death once more.

 

* * *

 

Retrieving the Elder Wand from where it had lain and making her way out of the Ministry back for the upper world was uneventful. No one stopped her when she walked through the small groups of nervous, graveyard shift Ministry employees hovering around the main Lobby. No one even noticed when she took the Floo and left.

When she arrived on the surface, she looked at the ring on her finger. The opal was duller, and there was a crackling in its centre to let her know that its magic had somehow become damaged and was quickly fading.

Well, that explained why no one seemed to notice her: she was beginning to fade out of time. 

Hurrying away, she managed to control her magic just enough to Disapparate to the shore of the Black Lake, just outside the bounds of Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. It took her the rest of the night to make it around the lake to Dumbledore’s tomb, but she did it and she returned the wand to its rightful place. Then, she sent her Patronus to her younger-self with the news that Umbridge was gone forever and the wand safe at last.

As dawn crept over the horizon, she sat down on a large, smooth rock on the edge of the Black Lake, her home for so many years, and watched the dawning of a new day, thinking about her life in its many incarnations. It occurred to her in that moment that the universe wasn't just made up of black and white decisions, nor did it seem to function fully without the input of revolving bodies. Fate and free will weren't mutually exclusive. They appeared, in fact, to be more of a blurred and soft thing…like the colour of Draco’s eyes.

Perhaps that was the answer. Maybe she’d had to _choose_  to come back in time to save Malfoy’s life for them to be  _destined_  to fall in love at some point in the future. Karmic balance.

She could believe in that.

Somewhere, she was sure Luna, Astoria, Cho, Lavender, Padma and Pansy were all nodding at her in approval.

From her pocket, she withdrew the photo she carried around with her for years. It was a Muggle photo her father had taken of her and her mother at King's Cross just before she'd gone off for her sixth year at school. They were waving to the camera and smiling. But that wasn't what held her attention. It was the person behind her left shoulder, his platinum hair a shining beacon in the gloomy atmosphere around them, the expression on his face as he looked right at her filled with regret and longing.

She'd always wondered what he was thinking of in that moment. She'd never know now, of course, but in her heart, she liked to believe he was saying he was sorry for everything.

"Maybe now you can finally tell her that," she said. "I hope you will, anyway."

She glanced at the rising sun.

"I hope."

And then, in a blink of time, she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Om Sri Maha Kalikayai Namaha - an extremely powerful, purgative mantra chant to the Hindu goddess, Kali Ma. 
> 
> From how a Hindu priest described it to me, the use of the above mantra is very rare, as it is seen as acting very similarly to an exorcism ritual. It's purpose is to rid the body of negative ego by evoking a spirit (in this case, the powerful, dark entity named Kali Ma) to come into you and rid you of the feelings/thoughts/influences that are negative. 
> 
> According to lotussculpture.com: "Kali Ma is known as The Dark Mother, she is a berserk form of Durga/Parvati, who is consort of Lord Shiva. Kali Ma is simultaneously portrayed as the giver and destroyer of life. However, in most of the interpretations she is portrayed as ferocious and evil. She is the mother of the world and the treasure-house of compassion. She is considered the primordial mass from which all life derives. The name Kali means "she who is beyond time"." Kali Ma is also known as the destroyer of the negative ego, FYI.


	12. Epilogue

" _ **What is it that makes us human?**_

_**It's the strength of the human heart.** _

_**It's love."** _

– _**Marcus Wright, "Terminator: Salvation"**_

 

Cursing the bad weather, Hermione patted her wet hair down with one hand and then slipped inside The Magic Touch, getting out of the rain. The small, golden bell above the door chimed a greeting as she came in.

"Be right with you," Malfoy called out from a back office.

She set her box of old Muggle photos on the counter and quickly tried to fix her hair. She'd just had it cut the day before in anticipation of this appointment today, but the rain had made a mess of it now. Figures.

"Hey," Draco said, casually lounging against the doorway of his employee office. "You came. Colour me pleasantly surprised, Granger."

Dropping her hands, not wanting to be seen as being vain, she plastered a smile on her face and patted the box instead. "Hi. Um, they're all here, as I explained in the Owl. Can you take a look and see if they're salvageable?"

"Sure."

He crossed over to her, his pretentious swagger long gone, replaced with a quiet, understated confidence. Opening the box, he began looking through the photos, determining whether their faded colouring could be touched up and sharpened by magic or not. She took those silent moments to examine him.

A decade since they'd last seen each other before last week's accidental run-in, but if anything, Draco looked better than he had in his youth. He'd grown into his looks and out of his arrogance. And gads, was he big! Somewhere between Ron and Harry's heights, but built like the Auror he'd been, before retiring and opening his own shoppe here in Diagon Alley last year. He looked good for single and twenty-eight. She patted at her messy, damp hair again. Whereas she...well, she'd added two dress sizes since leaving Hogwarts, but then, she'd been juggling PTSD, a stressful Ministry job, and being married for six years to Ron before they'd not-so-amicably split the year before. Still, her figure was good, and her new haircut had really looked fabulous, according to Ginny.

Would it be enough to capture Malfoy's attention, though?

When she'd dropped him off at Shell Cottage after _that_ night, years ago, she'd thought it best at the time not to look back. He'd been in love with an alternate version of herself, and that had been awkward enough, but being so close to him again had also done things to her that had left her conflicted over her feelings for Ron. In the end, she'd decided to stay the course, rather than go back for 'what ifs', letting the whole thing die on the vine. As Draco had no memory of that other Hermione, it had made it easy for her to simply walk away and leave him to his fate.

Of course she hadn't taken the Forgetfulness potion, either. When it had come down to it, her curiosity _had_ gotten the better of her. Knowing something was special about Dumbledore's wand, however, had allowed them to put together the pieces of the Deathly Hallows and to determine the wand's true identity. That information had given them the advantage. They'd gotten to the wand before Voldemort, and within a matter of months, had defeated him with it.

Now, ten years later, with a war, a recovery, and a bad marriage behind her, here she was internally debating her feelings for this wizard once more.

"You ever find out what happened to Umbridge?" she asked, trying to make small talk. She knew Malfoy had been assigned to track down rogue Death Eaters left over from the war during his tenure in the Auror's office.

"No, and no one's really looking too hard," he said, holding one photo up to the light and frowning at it. "Her wand was found at the foot of the Dark Archway, though, so the consensus is she fell in."

"How awful," Hermione said, not really meaning it. There were very few people she reserved her utter disdain for, and Dolores Umbridge was one of that lucky group.

Draco's lips curled with wry amusement. "Why, Granger, I didn't realise you were so ruthless."

She shrugged, and then noticed he was still gazing at the same picture. "Which one is that?" she asked, reaching for it.

Faster than she could blink, the photo was whipped out of her reach.

"Wha-? Let me see, Malfoy."

He was staring at her with an expression she'd never seen on his face before. "It's nothing," he quickly said. "A bad shot."

She frowned up at him. "How do you know?"

"It just is," he insisted, moving it away as she went to swipe it from him a second time.

Growling, she glared at him and held her hand out. "It's my picture. Give it to me."

Hesitating, he seemed torn, but in the end, he handed her the photograph.

It was her and her mother at King's Cross. She was heading off to school and looked to be about seventeen in the photo, which would put it at the beginning of sixth year.

Over her photo image's left shoulder, something white caught her attention. She looked more closely.

It was Draco...and he was looking at her.

Her eyes widened. "Oh." She glanced up at Malfoy. He was looking down at her box of photos, clearly embarrassed. "Why didn't you want me to see this?"

He shuffled through the photos quickly, randomly. "It's a bad shot, as I said. Background's too...noisy. You should toss it."

"Oh?" She glanced at it again, specifically at the expression on his younger face. His interest was obvious to her now that she knew about his feelings for her alternate self...but wait, this photo had been taken _before_ the other Hermione had shown up, hadn't it? "Oh!" she said again, as she realised what that meant.

His cheeks flushed with blood.

"Well, I like it," she confessed. "Especially the background."

He seemed surprised by that. "You do?"

"Mmm. It's a keeper."

Putting the photo in her purse, she made sure it received prominent placement within her wallet.

Draco cleared his throat, clearly nervous. "You know, the storm looks like it could last all afternoon," he said, and glanced out the window. When he looked back at her, he cast her a hesitant, but flirty smirk, "and going through the whole box could take hours. That's a lot of standing for a lady in heels."

Her heart skipped a beat in excitement at his implication. "Is that so?" she coyly asked, playing along. "Well, my feet certainly wouldn't like that. I don't suppose you have some place for us to sit and...get more comfortable?"

His grin was slow and sexy. "Office in the back. And I've got tea I could put on."

She gathered up her box under one arm. "Sounds divine. Lead the way."

Before he did, however, he reached out and ran his fingers through her new short, layered strands. "I like this better. It suits a grown-up you."

He'd willingly touched her! That settled it; she was going for it. Two years after the Restricted Section incident and an additional ten on top of that post-war was long enough to wonder if there was something between them worth pursuing.

She reached for his hand and took it in her own, running her finger over his family's signet ring. It gleamed in the shoppe's dim light. She wondered what spells it had upon it... "Since today's meeting was my inspiration for a massive make-over," she said, "it sounds like I chose the right cut."

His eyes sparkled with mischief. "Or it could have been fate you picked it since I have a serious thing for witches with short hair."

That she recalled from having met her 'other' self and heard first hand how desperately he'd loved her. "So, destiny versus desire, hmm? Which is it, I wonder."

His gaze grew heated. "In our case, Granger, I think it's clear that it's always been a little bit of _both._ "

"Good things come in twos, then," she stated, feeling a bit breathless from the look he was giving her.

He, literally, growled then, and the sound shot through her core like fire.

"You have no idea," he told her.

She opened her mouth to ask him what he meant by that, but he smoothly cut her off with a wave at the shoppe's front door to lock it and to turn the sign over to "CLOSED".

"Shall we take this debate into my office, along with the photos?" he offered.

She smiled at his charming Slytherin sensibilities. "Absolutely. You know I love a good fight, Malfoy."

He chuckled. "That I do, Granger. That I _do._ "

Following him into his private office, Hermione looked forward to what came next, feeling a painful but exciting hope once more throb to life inside her fast-beating heart.

Her future, it seemed, was about to become a whole lot more interesting.

 

_**~FIN~** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, in case the hinting throughout the piece wasn't clear, Draco's family ring has a special spell on it, just as Crabbe's had. In Malfoy's case, it's a charm to nullify any Memory spells cast against him. ;)


End file.
